The Colonel
by ray gower
Summary: In which Voyagers crew start with a mystery, which becomes deeper and gain a new passenger who proves invaluable...
1. 1-01 Castaway

# 1-01 Castaway

_In which Voyagers crew start with a mystery, which becomes deeper and gain a new passenger..._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The storyline and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story_ @ rgower.plus.com

_This is the first story in a sequence, most I would rate at PG_

_©R Gower 2000_

  


Captain Janeway tossed and turned on her bunk in a fitful mockery of sleep. She was near physical and mental exhaustion from the strains of their never ending voyage home to the Alpha Quadrant. 

The last six months in particular had been an almost unbroken series of flights from enemies, Malon, Hirogen, Borg and others. Even when they had escaped them and had stopped to repair, there had been little rest for either her, or the crew. The crew trusted her and looked towards her for continuous support and command. During her lighter moments she appreciated their loyalty and trust and took strength from it. At the moment she wished they would just go away. 

The Yellow alert klaxon sounded through the ship, disturbing her rest'.

"Captain to the bridge!" Tuvoks voice sounded over the communicator, snapping her awake with a start. As she struggled from her bunk, she cursed the post of Captain and it's never ending demands and duties. Perhaps she would have to get Chakotay to handle more for her, she thought leaving her room en-route for the Bridge. But she knew she would never find it in her to let anything go.

"Report", she snapped, as she stepped on the bridge.

"We have detected a vessel, range less than 250,000 kilometres," stated Tuvok, impassive as always.

"Damn, that's close," she claimed in alarm. "Why wasn't it picked up sooner?"

"The vessel is generating no emissions, and is stationary," stated Tuvok simply.

"Hail them!"

"No reply, Captain."

"Tom bring us in visual range," she ordered.

Chakotay staggered onto the bridge.

"Visual range, Captain!" Tom Paris exclaimed, "Putting it on screen," he pre-empted the next command.

There was a stunned silence, broken only by Tuvok's impassive voice.

"The vessel is a Klingon freighter. Engines are off-line. Severe damage to the hull. Life support is failing. One weak life sign," he reported.

"A mystery!" Exclaimed the Captain, "Chakotay, take an away team and find out what happened and why that ship is here," she commanded.

Chakotay nodded, tapping his communicator he intoned, "Torres, Seven of Nine, Doctor, to the transporter room," then beckoned to Tuvok to follow as he walked off the bridge.

  


It was dark aboard the ship where they materialised. Flashing his torch over the blackened bulkheads Chakotay signalled the ship, "We are aboard. It looks as though there has been a heck of a fire fight here. But no bodies."

"Take care," came the concerned reply.

"Torres, take Seven to engineering and try and get us some light," he ordered.

Torres nodded and the two women started off. 

As they rounded the corner of the corridor, there was a scream, the rest of the party rushed after them. They found Torres holding her hand to her mouth, looking green in the flickering torch light, Seven was leaning, her head in her arm, against the bulkhead.

"What's the matter.." started Chakotay in alarm.

He was interrupted by Tuvok, "We have found our first bodies, Commander."

Everybody directed their lights into the corridor. Scattered over the floor were the large part of a number of Klingons, they looked as though they had been hacked to pieces, their dried blood, gleaming green in the torch light, caked to floor and walls. 

Tuvok knelt by one of the corpses to examine it. "It looks as though the Borg may in part be responsible, this one appears to have been under assimilation, Commander. However it was not the Klingon weapons that killed them. "

Something even more dangerous than the Borg had been here at the same time, the potential horror hit them.

"B'Elanna, we must have power and light, can you do it?" Chakotay asked urgently this time, "We must find out what happened here!"

She nodded uncertainly and continued down the corridor with Seven in tow, stepping over the grizzly remains.

"The survivor, may be able to inform us what happened," suggested Tuvok.

"Unless it was him that killed these people," suggested Chakotay gravely.

They headed towards the life sign.

They picked their way through the corpses. One of the bodies, covered in blood, suddenly reared up with a blood curdling scream, and lunged at the doctor with a sword, passing straight through the holographic projection. 

It collapsed again with a gasp, still gripping the primitive weapon firmly. The stunned party stood aghast at the suddenness of the action, shining their torches on the prostrate body, it looked as dead as any of the rest of the crew.

The corridor flooded with light!

"Well done B'Elanna," called Chakotay nervously, kicking himself into action, "Right on time, can you download the files from the computer?"

"I'll try," came the disjointed voice, "But things are pretty badly smashed down here almost nothing works, I can't even guarantee what you've got the power cell we've attached is almost totally drained!"

"Do what you can then get off the ship," he replied.

Meanwhile the doctor knelt to examine his attempted assassin. 

"We have our living crew member," he announced, "I must get him to sickbay immediately," so saying he hit his communicator, "Doctor to Voyager, medical emergency two to sickbay immediate," and disappeared.

Tuvok and Chakotay looked around them. 

"Commander, these appear to be primitive projectile weapons, however they are not of Klingon or Borg origin," claimed Tuvok, picking up what appeared as two metal tubes. One appeared to have a wooden stock, the other had two definite handles.

"We'll take them back with us, perhaps the computer can identify them," Chakotay decided, taking one of them to examine. 

"I'm beginning to wonder just many races were involved and who was fighting who!"

Chakotay took a deep breath to steady his fraying nerves, "Let's get to the Bridge, there may be something more positive about what happened," he suggested.

They continued towards the ships control room, picking their path with care amongst the bodies and ruins.

The ships Bridge was in a worse state than the corridor had been. Those on the bridge had obviously used it as a last stronghold against attack, and they had fought to the last person, in the custom of cornered Klingons. Fighting off their feelings of nausea, they searched for anything that gave them clues as to what had happened. The task proved hopeless, the control panels were totally destroyed. Examining the dead showed signs of disruptor burns, physical wounds and Borg assimilation. The scene defied any attempt to decipher the nightmare of what had actually happened.

"I do not think there is much more to be learned here, Commander," Tuvok stated simply.

"I agree, let's collect Seven and B'Elanna and get off this ship, it gives me the creeps," affirmed Chakotay sweeping his eye's over the debris for the last time. In all his years both in Star Fleet and as a Maqui he had never seen such a scene of desperate confusion and barbarisim.

  


In Engineering Torres and Seven looked around, wondering where to start. 

Torres swallowed, "Where do we start?" she exclaimed in exasperation, "This is a charnel house, even by Klingon standards," she waved her arm expansively at the mess of bodies and ruined equipment.

"There is a secondary terminal in the alcove, it may be undamaged. We should commence there," suggested Seven of Nine nervously. She like Torres had been shocked by the sight of the bodies in the corridor, it left her feeling uneasy as distant memories haunted her.

They picked their way carefully through the mess to the control alcove that Seven of Nine had pointed out.

"We're in luck," announced Torres, "The terminal is undamaged." 

She activated the terminal, "I still can't get to the computer, there's no power available. I've never seen a ship exist with so little power," she exclaimed in frustration, "There isn't even enough power to operate life support!"

"A feature of the vessels design was to allow it to operate on minimal power, it allowed all power to be dedicated to the defensive systems," announced Seven calmly.

Torres looked at her sharply.

"I was involved in the assimilation of a similar vessel," she admitted without a trace of embarrassment, "The crew did not resist as this one appears to have done."

"B'Elanna?" They heard Chakotay calling from the main control room, "We're finished, you ready to beam out?"

"Nothing we can do here," she answered, leading Seven out to join Chakotay and Tuvok.

  


The Doctor sprang into action as soon as he and his new patient materialised in the sickbay. 

"Corticle Stimulator, 10 cc Isocortisone quickly," he snapped at Tom Paris who was waiting for him. "Some of his wounds have reopened, we must stop them before he finishes bleeding to death! And take that sword out of his hand before he does some damage!"

"He's pretty far gone Doc'," Paris commented queasily, wresting the weapon out of their patients iron grip, "Are you sure we can save him?"

"He was alive enough to leap at me with that sword, he can't be that badly hurt!" The EMH snapped, "But we've got to stabilise his life signs, another stimulator, please!"

After ten minutes frantic activity the Doctor settled down a little. "His life signs are stable, now I can clean him up and find out what else is wrong," he announced.

"Lieutenant Paris to the Bridge," the Captain called Tom away.

"Got to go Doc! Duty calls," he quipped and fled gratefully.

The Doctor continued the examination on his own, stripping the remains of it's clothing as he did so and muttering. He found a cord around his neck, it held four coloured disks, each a different colour and material and a small leather pouch. He took a cursory look at them, then placed them aside for a more detailed examination later and finished his examination in an increasing state of amazement.

Seven of Nine entered the room fresh from her return from the Klingon freighter.

"Do you require assistance?" She asked, seeing the Doctor struggle with his patient.

"It would be appreciated. If you could avoid being sick?" The Doctor affirmed, "We need to clean him up to confirm who he is, the tri-corder readings don't make sense. Get those swabs and help clean him," he ordered.

Finally they stood back and examined the figure. It had obviously been tall, but the pain it had suffered and forced him into a stooped stance for some time, the skin hung loosely from a well structured skeleton, inferring it had been a well muscled body that had not been able to feed for a long time. The whole spectacle was distressing, they looked at each other. 

"I am programmed to save lives at all costs, but I wonder if saving his life was the right thing to do?" The Doctor pondered uneasily. 

  


An hour later Captain Janeway called a staff conference.

"Prognosis Doctor?" asked Janeway.

"I've stopped the bleeding. His life signs are very weak. He is suffering from severe blood loss, malnutrition, dehydration, exhaustion and severe lacerations, cracked skull, there isn't an organ that isn't damaged. The surgery will take a month if he lives. He ought to be dead!" opined the Doctor after cataloguing the injuries, hiding his shock.

"No chance of waking him then?" she interrupted sarcastically, "Nothing as to who he is?"

"On the contrary, he was wearing these," he answered levelly, tossing the four discs he had found onto the table.

As people started to reach for them he added, "And he is human!"

The bomb shell he dropped stunned the room, he had to repeat himself several times before it sank in.

"Well our little mystery, becomes bigger and deeper," the Captain said heavily after some reflection.

"We have one Lieutenant Colonel Alan Samuels, serial number J680502, human," she said, reading the small brown disk she had picked off the table, "The sole survivor on a Klingon ship, deep in the Delta Quadrant, thousands of light years from where it ought to be. The ship was apparently involved in its own war. When it was attacked by the Borg. Who seemingly left when they found something even stronger and more unpleasant than themselves," she finished.

"I suppose it is a start. But who is this Colonel? Why is he here? How did that ship get here? Who was fighting who? And above all what did the Borg leave it alone for? Any suggestions?"

"I've examined the weapon he was carrying and his clothing," interjected Tom, "The sword seems Eighteenth Century Earth, the remains of his clothing suggest late Twentieth, Tuvok found some projectile weapons where he lay, which also suggests Twentieth."

"So not only shouldn't he be here, but he is six hundred years old to boot. Keep looking!" exclaimed the Captain.

"The computer seems undamaged, there just isn't enough power to operate it. If I set up a power relay to the ship I may get something," volunteered Torres.

"Do it!"

Turning to Tuvok she asked, "Can we attempt a mind meld with the Colonel?"

"I would not recommend it Captain," interjected the Doctor, "it will kill the patient," he disliked the Vulcan mind control techniques.

"We should deploy my nano-probes, they are capable of rebuilding his damaged tissues and would speed his recovery," volunteered Seven. She had been very quiet since returning from the mission.

"Will it work?" Janeway asked the Doctor.

"It may do, if we are careful, but only if I can improve some of his life signs" admitted the Doctor. He didn't like Sevens nano's either.

"Then do it as soon as possible, I want to know more, mysteries this big must be resolved," she claimed.

"How about possible intervention form other sources, I would hate to be here if the Borg suddenly remember they've lost and come to look again," she finished.

"Nothing on sensors," replied Chakotay.

"Long range scans show there are no planets within two weeks voyage. Habitable within six, and life in eight weeks," announced Seven.

"Good, keep checking," stated Janeway, "Meeting dismissed."

  


It took Torres three days to breath life back into the Klingon computer and retrieve it's information. Together, she, Chakotay and Kim, went over the data and brought it to the staff meeting.

"It seems," Chakotay started, "That a hundred years ago the Klingons found a worm hole that ended near the Earth in the late twentieth Century. They sent a vessel to Earth, to have a look and possibly take a few prisoners for interrogation. They landed near a company of British soldiers on a training mission in South America, and tried to take them by force. The British fought back, their superior local knowledge countering the Klingons superior weapons. The Klingon commander Gavikorn, comments 'They are like Krenag they appear from nowhere, create havoc and disappear again'. So I assume the battle was pretty bloody, with the Klingons on the receiving end. Eventually The Klingons withdrew, but not before they beamed up three of the soldiers. There was another battle in the transporter room. That resulted in five Klingons and one soldier killed, another soldier was beamed back to the Earth at the last moment. The final soldier, we assume it was the Colonel, was overpowered whilst he was beaming the escapee."

He stopped and Torres took over.

"At some point in the hole, something went wrong, the inertial dampers failed and the ship veered into the sides creating a vortex, dropping them into the Delta quadrant about a month ago. Gavikorn realised that the ship was lost. We're not sure if he realised just how lost. He made a truce with the Colonel, who it appears had not been very co-operative during imprisonment. The Borg found them and attacked a fortnight ago. The ships engines were rapidly disabled and they beamed aboard to assimilate the crew. They seem to have found it hard going, the Colonel lead the resistance to the attack after Gavikorn was taken. They found that the Borg were unable to adapt to blades. He ordered that anybody who was taken should be killed immediately. It is unclear how many Borg were terminated as they appear to have taken their dead, but we do know that there were nearly four hundred Klingons aboard the freighter. So it seems likely the Borg lost more than they took away with them."

Kim finished, "I've been doing a little checking in the records. The Colonel is not mentioned, but I have traced some of the tabs and insignia. He appears to have been the Commanding Officer of a British Regiment called the Royal Americas Rifles based in what was Belize. The flashes on his left breast suggest a number of decorations and from several countries and there were a number of conflicts that look as though they may have been involved. All in all, the Klingons bit off more than they could chew picking on him and his men."

"I don't know if I'm prepared to believe half of that story," stated Janeway shortly, "It's incredible!"

"Nor did we. But everything checked out, we tested it four times. There is no fault in the computer systems, or translation," said Torres.

"The doctor and I have agreed that we may begin transferring nano-probes to the Colonel today," interrupted Seven.

"Then lets do it," decided the Captain.

"Just a moment, Captain," Chakotay interjected, concerned over what he had seen and found, "Do we really intend to resurrect what could be the greatest murderer in the history of all mankind?"

"I do not think he is a murderer. I think if he gave that order to kill anybody who was overcome, it was rescue them from a worse fate, I'd like to think that I would give it in a similar circumstance. But we will take precautions, he must be given the opportunity to give his own side of the story."

  


In the sickbay, the Doctor briefed them on what was to happen.

"His haemoglobin is extremely active and resistant to infection, possibly because he is so primitive, he commented. It seems probable that it will destroy the probes quicker than we can create them. However Seven has assured me that her own probes are better able to withstand his blood than the replicated ones. So she is going to inject the probes direct from her own body. We then allow her own stock to rebuild itself again, so that we can treat him again. We will have to repeat the injections several times."

"The subject is extensively damaged, but not irreparable" she stated simply.

She approached the gaunt and wasted figure. Extending her injectors, she carefully injected him in the neck, whilst holding his head still. The body twitched impulsively, and whimpered.

"So far so good," said the doctor, "I shall erect a force field to contain him, in case he recovers quicker than we expect. I think a repeat treatment in about 48 hours will be in order."

"You may come away now Seven," he continued.

"He is holding my hand," she said, "It feels cold and wasted," she complained, levering her hand away.

"His body may improve, but I am worried about his mind if he recovers Captain," said the doctor quietly. "The stresses he faced on that ship, alone for so long amongst that mess, would derange anybody?"

The Captain nodded in thought, slightly disappointed by the lack of response. "We'll deal with it when we have to. Keep me informed."

  


Two days later the process was repeated, the doctor was more confident. 

"Most of his internal organs are showing signs of recovery. We may be able to switch to replicated probes in a week,now Seven's have got his blood under control," he announced to the gathering.

This time the patient made no movement or sound during the injection. Despite the Doctors assurances, he appeared more dead than before.

  


The third treatment arrived. Again Seven approached the bed. The body was starting to fill out, no longer did it look like a skeleton, the skin showed signs of containing muscle. As she bent forward to inject the body, possibly for the last time, it suddenly yelled, "ANNEKA!" Sat up and kissed her full on the lips, then sank back again. The shaken Borg gasped and stepped back to be met by the concerned Captain.

"I am undamaged, Captain," she stated to the unasked question, "It was unexpected."

"All the same, I want him restrained. And you had better decant the probes to the doctor so that he can administer them," she ordered.

"He is still deeply unconscious, Captain," the doctor claimed, scanning the man. "The kiss was an autonomous reaction. But I think we can now switch to smaller doses of replicated probes," he continued.

Seven was thankful, the treatments had left her feeling a little washed out, she left for her regeneration cell.

  


Arriving at her booth, she opened her console.

"Seven of Nine, Personal Log. The human believed to be designated Lieutenant Colonel Alan Samuels, briefly recovered consciousness. He sat up when I bent to administer treatment, shouted my original name and pressed his lips against mine! I am told by the Doctor that this is a common human action called kissing. He claimed in lesson 21 of his course on Human Social Interactions, it is used to signify many human emotions, greeting, farewells or even love, in this case it is believed to be an autonomous reaction by his sub-conscious for somebody called Anneka. I am unsure if it was his actions, the feel of his lips or something else that caused most shock, but I found it disturbing, I shall have to examine my thoughts at another time. End log." 

Then she stepped into her alcove and forgot all about it.

  


Eight days after treatment began the human regained consciousness, to be met by the Doctor.

"Good day, young man," started the doctor, using bedside voice number sixteen (reassurance for the simple), "You've had us worried at points."

The patient looked at him blankly.

He turned away and opened a comms link, "Sickbay to Captain, our guest is awake."

"I'll be right down," came the instant reply.

  


"Who are you?" the Captain asked.

He stared at her in non-comprehension.

"Are you Lieutenant Colonel Alan Samuels?"

Again a confused look.

"He's awake, but the lights aren't all on," said Chakotay, "He is going to need a little time to recover, having been at deaths door for more than a month."

Janeway nodded, "Doctor do what you can with him and contact me when he seems to have gained comprehension."

  


The human on the bed in sickbay was more voluble next day.

"Where am I? Who are you? what are you? why am I secured to this slab?" he demanded. He struggled weakly against the force field holding him down.

The doctor tried to reassure him, "You are safe in the sick bay of the Starship Voyager. We are your friends, and you are restrained for your own safety."

He stepped away as the Captain, Tuvok and Seven of Nine entered.

"I am Kathryn Janeway, Captain of the Federation Starship Voyager," she introduced herself, "This is my Security Officer Lieutenant Tuvok, and Seven of Nine who went most of the way to saving your life! Now who are you and where are you from?"

"Name: Samuels, Alan, Rank: Lieutenant Colonel, Serial Number: J680502," he replied automatically. 

"Where are you from?" Janeway asked patiently.

"Name: Samuels Alan, Rank: Lieutenant Colonel, Serial Number: J680502," he pronounced again stubbornly.

Janeway sighed, this was going to be difficult.

"Look," she started again, "We are from a planet called Earth, it orbits around the sun sometimes known as Sol. It is the third planet of nine. The Earth consists of several continents, Europe, North and South America, Asia, Africa Antartica and Australasia. It is orbited by a small planetoid, called appropriately the Moon. I believe you come from the same place," she stated finally.

They let this sink in for a few moments,watching his face change from impassive disinterest to one of surprise, then he uttered in a more normal voice, seemingly accepting this new fate, "Lieutenant Colonel Samuels, late of Her Majesties 1st battalion 60th rifle regiment, 'The Americas Rifles'. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he paused for a moment as if considering the last statement, then added, "Possibly!" 

"But look, this ship cannot possibly be from Earth, there is nothing like this in existence there!" He protested.

The sudden change in attitude eased the tension that had been in the air, and threw Janeway a little off balance.

"Perhaps not when you were there last. But that was over six hundred years ago!"

The Colonel was stunned into silence for a little while, then said, "Well that son of a bitch Gavikorn said we were lost, but he didn't work out how lost!" He subsided into silence again.

Finally he asked, "Is it still possible to get tea in the twenty-sixth century? I'm gasping for a cuppa!"

All the tension was relieved from that moment.

"Yes, we can replicate some, if the doctor will allow it," laughed Janeway. He certainly didn't appear to be a mass killer.

The Doctor nodded his agreement. "He is physically repaired, but he will remain weak for several days," he informed them.

"If you promise not to try and escape, then we will release your restraints, so that you may drink your tea," the Captain announced, holding up a cup of the requested beverage.

He regarded her carefully, measuring her up. He could see strength behind the seemingly open and friendly face, but there was also strain as well. 

Finally he came to his decision, "I don't think I can go anywhere for the moment, Captain! So you have my word."

He tried to sit, but found he was still too weak to do so, so they helped him. Captain Janeway carefully holding the cup to his lips.

"Ah! Nectar of the Gods!" He exclaimed, falling back onto the bed and slept again.

  


Two days later he awoke again. Silently he looked around him trying to make sense of what little he could see of this new world. The only thing he could actually understand was the colour of the walls, white. The rest left him baffled. He had never seen anything that even remotely matched the devices he could see. Seven of Nine entered the sickbay for her periodic adjustments and he transferred his examination to her. She was well worth the effort, he decided agreeably, blonde, tall, slender, exquisitely curved and ramrod straight. He caught sight of the implant around her left eye, it fascinated him over it's purpose.

Seven scanned the room and found the Doctor absent, she noticed the Colonel, propped up on his bed and examining her with interest. She approached him cautiously.

"During you recovery, I treated you. You called my name before assimilation. 'Annaka' and kissed me, why was this?" She demanded curiously.

"Did I!" he exclaimed in surprise, then looked embarrassed. 

"Anneka was my wife on Earth, she died twenty years ago, sorry, twenty years before I left, I'm going to have difficulty with dates aren't I?"

He continued quickly, "Look, I am most dreadfully sorry for the embarrassment that I caused, all I can say is I wasn't quite with it at the time, please forgive me, it won't happen again!" He stammered in his own embarrassment.

The ex-borg was surprised by the obvious distress and embarrassment caused by her question.

"The apology is irrelevant. I was curious over the purpose!" she stated, slightly flustered herself.

To her relief the Doctor returned to the room at that point and she fled gratefully.

He smiled as he watched her go, appreciating her beauty and calm exterior. "I think I am going to like that girl! I wonder what it takes to get her to smile and if there are anymore like her?" he thought.

  


Curiosity saw her returning again the following day. This time she found him trying to stand up.

"You are not sufficiently repaired to stand," she scolded.

"Repaired be damned," he snapped, "I want out of here, before I take a violent dislike to your doctor. He keeps talking to me like a simpleton, then telling me I ought to be dead. Now where are my clothes?"

So saying he slid his feet to the deck and momentarily stood up. Then collapsed, to be caught by Seven of Nine. She struggled to put him back on the couch.

"Bloody doctors," he mumbled, "They'll be the death of me yet."

"That is unlikely, considering the status of your injuries on arrival," commented Seven coldly. She turned and left.

She met the Captain walking towards the sick bay to inspect their new guest.

"Captain! You are going to see the Colonel?" She queried bluntly.

"Yes, Seven. The Doctor thinks he is about ready to get up, care to come along?" She answered amiably.

"That will be acceptable," Seven replied calmly.

"He is unsure of us, Seven. I don't know how we can help him. He may be out of his depth on the ship. He could even be dangerous," the Captain confided as they walked.

"I was also a danger to the crew and had difficulty adjusting to its methods," Seven pointed out.

"Yes, you did," the Captain admitted, "And you still are. But think of it, he's facing an even bigger challenge. Not only does he have to get used to the crew and its methods, but our technology is well beyond anything he's ever dreamed off."

"I will help him to adapt!" Announced Seven of Nine flatly.

The Captain stopped dead in surprise. "Are you sure?" She asked, looking hard at her beautiful ex-borg. 

"I believe I may be able to help him," she asserted. "I find him interesting." 

"I have studied the log he kept. I believe there may be similarities in approach between the Borg and the army he served in, I believe I may be able to adapt them," she continued.

"He may not like you and it could put you in danger. After all, the only time he's met the Borg they were trying to assimilate him and he proved himself very dangerous to them," Janeway pointed out, not unkindly. "He will need a sensitive approach."

"I can be sensitive," Seven averred. "Please Captain. The crew has been kind in helping me. I wish to prove I can help somebody else!"

Janeway looked at her and smiled, "Okay," she agreed, "You can try. But it may not be easy!"

  


"I hear you are not enamoured by my medical staff?" Janeway asked entering the Sick Bay.

"I have no qualms about his medical expertise, Ma'am," he replied simply, "It's his bedside manner, it's the same everywhere, stating and asking the obvious, how do you feel, it's a virus, you have a temperature, you've been hurt, you should be dead and so on."

"Most of us think he's done well to perfect that attitude," smiled Janeway, "His earlier one was much more unsympathetic."

"However," she continued quickly, "The Doctor has said that you should be able to get out of bed for a little while tomorrow and Seven of Nine has volunteered to keep you safe. Don't over do it!" again she smiled.

"Thank you, Captain. I shall look forward to both the exercise and Miss Nine's company," he replied with a smile.

  


The following day they both turned up to get their new guest to his feet.

"Are you ready for your exercise," smiled Janeway, "We've come to get you off your lazy backside," she teased. She was still worried about how strong this man would be and how he would react, especially when he found out about Seven's history.

"Lazy be damned," he cursed, and swung his legs off the couch. He stopped momentarily as his head swam, then determinedly slid off the couch onto the floor. Janeway and Seven reached out together and balanced him before he fell, then stood back. The nano-probes had done their job well.

"Wow!" thought the Captain, taken back by the handsome apparition standing tall and erect before her, "If Seven is gaining her human senses I can understand her becoming helpful."

The man in his Star Fleet pyjama's stood before them, a little pale. He was about 6'4" tall, a mane of thick brown hair slicked back from his forehead. His eyes were slate grey, shrewd and slightly narrowed, with laughter lines etched from the corners. His face although lined and weather beaten was strong and appeared to belong to a man of about thirty. A small scar, that the probes had missed, marked one corner of his mouth, stretching it up into a slightly lopsided grin. A well muscled chest and arms filled the pyjama top, straining the top button, the chest tapered slightly to a muscular washboard stomach and long muscular legs.

"For a six hundred year old man you look like a man of thirty," complimented the Captain.

"Unfortunately, for a man of fifty I feel like a six hundred year old, Ma'am," he answered heavily. 

"Can I have my uniform back now I'm upright?" he asked hopefully.

"We destroyed it when we were treating you. Still I'm sure Seven will find something for you," the Captain answered the Colonel.

"Now I shall have to return to the bridge." She left.

The Colonel turned to Seven, "Well Miss Nine, I am in your hands. Please lead on. Just one thought. I won't fit in one of those slinky suits of yours!"

He took a step and staggered, "Assuming I can actually walk that is," he gasped.

Seven of Nine stepped next door and returned with a wheel chair. He eyed it suspiciously.

"It will be efficient for getting you to the holodeck. I assume you will require clothing similar to your previous uniform and there is nothing in the standard replicator databanks of that nature. We will model it on the holodeck, then replicate the design" she said in explanation.

"And my weapons and equipment?" he asked.

"They are safe in Cargo Bay 2," she answered. Omitting to tell him that was where she lived.

Carry on, Ma'am, he accepted her proposal and sat himself in the chair nervously. Then held on tightly as she propelled him through the corridors.

"I am not fond of women drivers!" He quipped.

The Colonel was fussy in his selection of uniform, insisting that his clothing should be tailored exactly to specification. Finally they emerged from the Holodeck with him dressed in what he described as 'number two's' and two other sets. The uniform he wore was a deep bottle green single breasted suit with black buttons with the regimental crest moulded upon them. He wore black leather issue boots that shone. A black leather belt with shoulder strap was arranged around his waist. On his head he wore the undress flat hat of a British Army Officer, also bearing the regimental crest.

Arriving back at sickbay, Seven helped him back onto his couch and left him.

"I shall return at 10:00 hours tomorrow," she announced as she left.

He settled back on his slab and grinned to himself as he fell asleep, relaxed for the first time in many months.

  


She was as good as her word, arriving at exactly 10:00 the following day.

"What's on the agenda today nurse?" he asked brightly.

"I have found quarters for you on deck three," she announced. 

"I shall take you there," she added unnecessarily.

"Will you require the wheelchair? It is not far."

"I think I shall attempt it on foot," he claimed bravely. In truth he didn't relish the thought of another high speed career along the ships corridors, even propelled by this beautiful driver.

In the end they took the chair, as a means of carrying his new belongings.

The new billet, to the Colonels eye's were unnecessarily spacious. The room was about 20 by 20 feet, divided to give an alcove effect for the sleeping area, and a bathroom with shower, was attached to one side. The sparse furnishings consisted of the bed, a couple of easy chairs, a table and two straight back chairs. A fan shaped partition in a block of shelves divided the easy chairs from the table/dining area. A window was set into one sloping wall. He went to it and looked out. He sighed, he had had much worse quarters.

"These are adequate?" Seven interrupted his reverie. "Additional furniture may be replicated at your convenience, I am aware of how humans like to clutter their personal space."

"Yes. Thank you. It is a ballroom compared to what I'm used to," he stammered.

"I shall collect your personal possessions and return," she said and left.

He carefully hung his new clothing in the lockers he found in the bedroom area, and sat down to gaze at the emptiness out the window.

He was startled by Seven of Nines return. She staggered into the room without introduction and laid out his things.

"I am unclear as to the function of some of these items, you will explain them?" she asked, holding up a rifle.

"That is a standard issue SA80 automatic light infantry rifle, effective range of 400 yards. Careful it may be loaded and dangerous."

"It is inefficient," she stated simply.

"Perhaps not the best," he admitted, "But quite adequate at close ranges."

"And this?" as she picked up a longer device.

"Enfield bolt action snipers rifle, effective range about 2000 yards. The pointed bit at the end is called a bayonet, it comes off like this," he said, taking the weapon from her and twisting the bayonet from the barrel. Picking up a leather sheath from the table he slipped the blade into it and secured it.

"This one is an infantry officers ceremonial sword. I still carry it because it is more effective than anything else at extremely close quarters, especially when dealing with rude Borgs."

She coloured slightly, "I shall leave," she stated.

"Why?" he asked nonplussed.

"Until two years ago, I was part of the Borg Collective."

"I am sorry, I didn't think," he apologised hurriedly.

"How many did you terminate on the Klingon vessel?" She demanded..

"I don't know. I didn't count, ten, a hundred, a thousand, it simply means nothing after a while," he answered hollowly.

"I must return to my duties," she said and turned to go.

"Will you be my guide tomorrow?" he asked hopefully. 

"Perhaps. I have other duties to perform."

Cursing himself for his clumsiness, he put his meagre belongings into the lockers, finally picking up the last three items. One was the small leather bag he habitually wore around his neck, carefully he checked the contents and looped it over his neck again, tucking it inside his shirt. The next was a tattered Bible, from which he read a couple of passages from, then turned to the final object, a battered silver flute. He played a long and soulful tune on it, before finally settling to sleep.

He woke up the next morning, feeling hungry and thirsty. After experimenting with the replicator he managed to acquire a jug of water, but no glass and a bar of what appeared to be food, which he ate. Then he settled down to wait, he didn't want to wander around the ship without a guide of some sort. It would be safer and fewer complications would arise he thought.

At twelve the door chimed and the Captain walked in.

"You seem to have upset Seven," she said mildly.

"I know, Ma'am! It was not intentional on my behalf I assure you. Please make my apologies known to Miss Nine," he said contritely, "If I had known her origins I would have been more careful."

"No harm has been done, I think. She will be down later I'm sure, she conspired. In the meantime you appear to have settled in. Any problems?"

"I have a problem with the replicator, Ma'am. He indicated the jug that he had produced. Miss Nine omitted to give instructions on how to get it to produce what you want and not what the computer thinks it will give you."

"I'm sure I can help you there," she brightly answered. "How about some tea and chicken soup?"

"I think that would be admirable Captain, thank you."

"Computer, pot of tea for two, Darjeeling. Two bowls of soup, Cream of Chicken, two bread rolls with butter," she demanded of the computer. 

The required goods materialised in the replicator.

"You are quite honoured," she stated as she settled down in front of the Colonel at the table.

"Honoured? Captain," he asked quizzically.

"Oh yes! Seven of Nine still does not take too well to most of the crew. Most of the crew find her, brusque, rude and uncooperative. It makes her seem remote. So she has no friends as such. But you, she volunteered to help!"

"To be frank," she added. "I've given up trying to get her to totally accept her situation, and settle within Voyager. Yet she thinks a lot of you and wanted to help you settle with us."

"Maybe there is a touch of kindred spirit," he suggested.

He pointed at the window. "What you see out there are stars to be explored. It's a game to you and you take everything you need and want with you to make it all seem as comfortable as home. All I see is a huge chasm between me and what I knew, with no prospect of a bridge. Miss Nine told me you are 50,000 light years from Earth. Well I'll tell you that is simply distance. She and I are trapped a whole culture away from what we knew, me because of time, her because people and Borg think differently about everything."

She looked at him sharply over the outburst, wondered at what strains were playing on the Colonel and how he was controlling them.

He caught her gaze and held it, "You are wondering if I'll suddenly crack, go berserk and kill everything I see," he stated.

"In truth, I don't know that I won't. I've seen people break under much less stress," he admitted.

"In your position, I would look for a nice little planet to put me on, then leave, and hope that I'll die a nice quiet death," he continued.

"Are you suggesting that is what I ought to do?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am. I cannot and will not impose a decision upon you or your ship, he protested. But it would be the most sensible reaction, based upon what you know of me. All you have is a scratchy computer record, a dead ship, several hundred bodies and me. I'm no angel, I'm a soldier, I've killed more people than is generally considered good for health. But that is the prime reason for a soldier to exist- Kill the enemy. If that is what you decided was the most appropriate course of action, then I would have no choice but to comply with your request to leave."

"What doesn't appear quite so readily on the mental job description is the other functions. Relief to the suffering, protection of the innocent. If it's any help, I've had as much experience saving lives as taking them and I have to adapt to the situations I find myself in, using what ever is available."

"But if you decide to give me passage a new set of problems present themselves. Where do you take me? You can't put me back where I came from, it doesn't exist. What will you do with me? I haven't a hope in hell of learning what all those flashing lights mean and you certainly don't need a passenger. All I have to offer is thirty plus years experience handling people and fighting, both of which are going to be rather out of date."

The Captain listened spell bound by the Colonels admissions. 

Finally she said, "I think we can teach you how to live with us. I'll do you a deal. You look after Seven of Nine for me and I'll not put you off the ship."

"Thank you Captain, I'm not sure who has the better bargain, just as long as you don't try to make me part of your Star Fleet. I don't think either would survive the conflict of interest. Besides there may be an opportunity to go home one day," he finished wistfully.

"Agreed. Thank you for lunch, now I must go. Expect Seven about three," she turned and left.

  


She immediately went to Astrometrics to find Seven of Nine.

"Seven will you continue your indoctrination of the Colonel?" she asked immediately.

Seven stiffened, "He is hostile to me. There is no useful function to be gained by my befriending him."

"I disagree. He didn't know of your history, and he apologised. In fact you may have more in common than you think. You've both been torn from the world you knew and he is the nearest thing to a Borg that hasn't actually been one on this ship. We need to know more about him! You didn't expect the task you volunteered for would be easy did you?"

"I shall comply," said Seven stiffly.

"Try taking him to see Neelix," the Captain suggested as she left. "He needs feeding up!"

  


The Colonel was waiting for her when she arrived. He was fully dressed and had clipped the sword to his belt. He felt better fully dressed.

"Miss Nine, I must apologise for my statements yesterday," he started.

"Apologies are irrelevant," she said coolly.

"That is not relevant on this vessel," she pointed to the sword.

"You think so?" he asked mildly. "It makes me feel more at home. Still if you insist I shall remove it."

He did so.

"Where now?" He asked.

"We shall start with Engineering, the source of power on this vessel. This way," she stated.

He walked after her. They met with B'Elanna, shouting at her staff in Engineering.

"This is Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, a Klingon/human cross, a very capable engineer, who knows the ships systems, but is prone to a volatile temper," she introduced Torres in her usual brusque manner.

"Seven I really don't have time just now.." she started.

"Lieutenant Torres, I am pleased to meet you, Ma'am. I'm sorry I left such a mess on the Klingon vessel for you to meet, it was remiss of me. I promise not to do it again," the Colonel announced happily.

She stopped turned and turned at the sound of his voice and the strange accent, it commanded attention, "I'm sure you couldn't help it, have you seen the warp drive?" she asked sweetly, "Come on I'll show you!"

Taking his arm she led him to the pulsing column in the centre of the room. 

"This is the ships power source, it powers everything from lights, replicators and gives the ship it's motive power.." and launched into an explanation of how it worked.

"It would only be fair to advise you, I didn't understand a word of that," he grinned finally, "Would I be right in thinking that basically you take something called antimatter' and matter, shake it together with that crystal and harness the bang it produces?"

She grinned also, there was an open frankness about him that seemed to soften everybody near him. 

"Rather simplistically, yes!" she answered. 

She continued, "Beware of Miss Bossy over there, she warned, nodding towards Seven of Nine, who was watching them impassively. She'll turn you into a drone of efficiency, given half a chance.

"Miss Nine you mean. She has been most kind and pleasant to me!" he exclaimed in surprise. 

"So far I've resisted all attempts from a lot of people to change me radically, I think It will take more than her beauty and mannerisms to change me from what I am," he boasted.

"Just take care," she warned.

He returned to Seven.

"Where to next Ma'am?" he asked.

"We shall go to the Mess Hall."

She turned and left, the Colonel trotting after her. As they left numerous heads turned to watch the two figures leave.

  


"This is Neelix, the ships cook, a Talaxian. Most meals are prepared and cooked here, the use of replicators for food is strictly rationed," she intoned.

"Greetings Colonel. You are quite a celebrity here, it is good to see you up and about. I trust Seven has been looking after you," the little cook babbled.

"She has been remarkably patient with me," the Colonel admitted, "Every whim has been handled with efficiency."

"Will you have something to eat. We have Talaxian Stew and vegetable, or would you prefer something more familiar?"

"Does it move around on its own?" the Colonel asked suspiciously.

"Dear me no!" laughed Neelix

"Then I'll take it," he said relieved. "Will you join me?" he turned to Seven.

"No. I am due regeneration," she excused herself.

"I've not upset her again, have I?" he asked the little cook, as she walked away.

"No. That's just her way. She doesn't eat very often, she prefers her Borg regeneration cell to company," the Talaxian explained.

"I think she is not entirely happy with her life," the Colonel said wistfully, "No wonder the Captain doesn't know what to do with her."

He sat down at a table and tried the food. It was more edible than anything that he had consumed recently.

"How is your dinner," asked the little Talaxian nervously.

"It starts at a better point than my last real meal, it's not alive!" the Colonel joked, "But perhaps a little zing is required, maybe a dash of Worcester Sauce?"

"I don't know what that is," confessed Neelix.

"It's a mild pepper sauce in a fermented beef stock," answered the Colonel.

"I shall try and make some, it sounds quite tasty. How about a drink?"

"A bitter ale or stout would be nice, but failing that tea would suffice nicely" the Colonel suggested.

"Coming right up," replied Neelix.

After the little Chef had supplied him with his drink, the Colonel was approached by the Captain and two Officers. He stood up and saluted.

"Do you mind if we join you? I see you are trying Neelix's food," she smiled, "I apologise for the standard in advance. Please continue."

"By Navy standards it is quite palatable," he replied happily, "And miles better than anything the Klingons can provide. It doesn't walk about on the plate."

Everybody laughed and sat with him.

He finished his plate, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Now I'm sure you didn't join me simply for the enjoyment of watching me make a pig of myself," he quizzed.

"No we didn't, but it was good to see somebody who actually enjoys Neelix's food," admitted the Captain. "Do you mind if we talked?" 

"In the absence of a pressing date, I seem to have an empty diary," he commented. "Do you wish to do it here, or is there a more suitable location for my interrogation?" He needled. I assume you wish me to explain myself?

"I think the Ready Room would be more suitable," agreed the Captain quickly and they all trooped off, to the combined stares of the whole Mess.

  


"How did you get on the Klingon ship? The full story!" Demanded Janeway.

They were sat in the Captains ready room, facing the Colonel.

"I had three platoons, thirty men. Two were engaged in a training exercise, the other was returning from a patrol," The Colonel began. "We detected the sudden arrival of a large company of rather ugly and seemingly heavily armed men. I didn't know where from, or how they got there. So I sent a captain and two men to say 'Hello' and find out who they were. The rest of the men I quietly deployed around their landing site."

"You were preparing for combat?" Tuvok asked.

"No!" The Colonel replied firmly. "If they had been genuine and friendly, there would have been no problem. As it was they started shooting, we simply defended ourselves, then persuaded them to leave again."

"How many Klingons landed?" Janeway asked.

"Three companies at least," the Colonel replied immediately. "Sorry, about 200," he elaborated, noting their confused looks.

"How long did the combat last?" From Tuvok

"Three days."

"Casualties?" Asked Janeway.

"I didn't have time to take a butchers bill," he pointed out. "I know I lost four and Carver on the ship. Of the Klingons, I know we were in double figures."

"Gavikorn stated eighty in his logs, Captain," advised Chakotay. "How could you keep the casualties so low?" He asked in fascination, remembering his efforts with the Maquis. There was no way he would have dared to take on such an overwhelming force, particularly Klingons.

"We were experts in jungle and guerilla warfare and were playing at home. They could have ten times that number and still have lost," the Colonel boasted proudly.

"How did you end up on the ship?"

"They captured Carver, I couldn't have that. So Sergeant Major O'Neil and I went to get him back. Unfortunately it was just when they withdrew. On the ship we had a bit of an argument. We wanted to go home, they wanted us to stay. Carver was killed, but I think I managed to get the Sergeant Major back. After that I was overcome."

"Then you made peace with the Commander on the ship?" Asked Chakotay.

"There wasn't a lot of choice, was there?" The Colonel pointed out bitterly. "I couldn't get home by then. Their leader, Gavikorn, seemed to be impressed by the fight. He promised to set me free and return me to Earth, after we reached his own world. 

I won't hold it against him the fact I'm unlikely to see either," he added sadly.

"Who was Anneka?" The Captain asked, changing the subject.

"Anneka Holsen, was my wife. She was a Swedish diplomatic interpreter. We were married for two years, when she happened to be in the way of a terrorist bomb in London. She was pregnant with our first child at the time."

"I'm sorry," the Captain said sympathetically, "Were the people responsible caught?"

"Yes they were caught, and the people who ordered the event. I made sure of them myself."

"You killed them?" asked Chakotay.

"Yes!" the reply was final.

"Did it help?"

"Not in the long run perhaps, but at the time I thought so. So yes!"

"Did you love her?"

He stared at them incredulously, then reached inside he shirt for the leather pouch and emptied it into his hand. From the small items he extracted a gold ring and showed it to them carefully. The rest he put on the table beside him.

"Come on! Look. The ring hasn't tarnished, of course I did!" 

"Look where is this going?" He demanded forcefully.

"We are concerned that you may have a violent reaction putting the crew at risk," explained Tuvok calmly. "The circumstantial evidence against you is very strong."

The Colonel turned to the Captain, "I told you this afternoon, Captain, I do not know whether I am mentally stable. In the last six weeks two out of three life forms I've met have made it their personal ambition to kill me. Should I be? I'm not even sure I know what the term means anymore!"

He drew a breath.

"As things are, I see no benefit in doing anything hostile towards anybody that isn't hostile to me. As that seemingly means at least two thirds of the Galaxy is after me, I think that is quite sufficient to be going on with!" 

"I want to go home, but I can't fly this ship. If I could, I wouldn't know which way to point it, and if I got there, it still wouldn't be home. So I've nothing to gain by harming the ship or her crew! This ship has been kind enough to take me aboard, I have no intention of biting the hand that feeds me!" he finished.

"How many men were in you regiment?" asked Chakotay.

"240 officers and men, sixty army support," he replied.

"A lot of men!"

"Not really. In the Green Jackets I commanded a battalion of nearly a thousand."

"You have no objection to being commanded by our Captain?"

The Colonel started.

"Excuse me. That is another damned stupid question!"

"Explain?" demanded Tuvok.

"Let's start at the top," the Colonel started heavily, his anger rising.

"One, I'm not part of Star Fleet. As things stand I've no intention of being so, my pledge of loyalty lies with the Queen of England and her successors."

"Two, I've no orders to control the ship and not likely to get any!"

"Three, I'm a mud plugging squaddy. What would I do with a Space Ship?"

"Four, under Queens regulations, even though the Captain is a different service and may even hold a junior rank. She is designated the Captain. Aboard this ship she is the superior officer."

"What about ashore?"

"If that is the case, I would assume the Captain will designate as she sees fit. I cannot control her crew members without explicit permission from the Senior Officer in Command."

"If that is what you are worried about. I will offer you this as my word of honour," he glared at Tuvok. " I will respond as my own regulations require. The ship and crew are yours, you may do as you wish with them and I shall not interfere. I shall not knowingly put this ship in danger, or to allow it to fall into danger if the remedy is at my hand. That will include it's defence from outside sources, but exclude anything you do to yourselves. I will not attempt to usurp the Captain or her officers authority over the crew without permission. Or accepting the responsibility for both their and my actions. I shall undertake your requests for action, to the best of my ability, such as it maybe. The only thing I ask is that my rank is accepted as a valid rank of an ally, not as a convenience. If that is not reassurance enough, then put me off this ship, NOW!"

He emphasised the last statement by crashing his fist into the table.

"If you would excuse us for a moment Colonel?" asked the Captain calmly, "We shall call you shortly."

He stood, slammed a salute more precise than anything to be seen at the Academy, then marched out, head high.

"I think we've hurt his pride!" Said Chakotay mildly.

"Anything else? Questions? Comments?" asked the Captain sombrely.

"He is violent, prone to temper. From the evidence aboard the Klingon Freighter we would have significant problems in containing him should he decide to resist. It could put the ship in danger." Tuvok pointed out immediately.

"He offered me the option of putting him off the ship this afternoon." Responded the Captain, "He also claims he has saved as many lives as he has seemingly taken."

"That cannot be proved." Remarked Chakotay, "What are these Queens Regulations he quoted?"

"No we can't, yet." The Captain admitted, "The regulations, I think are his equivalent to Star Fleet Regulations. But I suspect they are much broader in scope and stricter in application."

"I suspect you have already made your decision, Captain." Tuvok remarked. "You intend to keep him on board."

She nodded. "We can't simply leave him in the depths of space. So we have to take him, somewhere where he will be safe."

  


The Colonel stalked back to his quarters, "They were still afraid of me! I'm not wanted! Well that figures, who needs a soldier?" He thought bitterly.

Determinedly he reattached his sword to his belt and waited.

"Colonel Samuels, to the ready room." The call came and he marched out at the double. If he was to be put of the ship it would be as a soldier. 

Seven met him as he marched and ran to keep up with him.

"You are going to the Captains Ready Rooms?" she asked.

"Yes!"

"You think they will put you off the ship?"

"Yes!"

"You are thinking of resisting?"

"No!"

"Why are you going armed?" She demanded.

He stopped suddenly and she crashed into him, he held her close to prevent her falling.

"If they wish to put me off, I will go. That is their right. I've been left in the lurch before, I'll survive. But I go as what I am, not as a broken cast-off no matter how it's taken," he snarled.

She was taken back. Even more so when he kissed her on the lips.

"I may never get the opportunity again," he whispered gently in her ear.

He turned and marched off again, at the strange double march, leaving her confused. He arrived at the Ready Room Door, chimed the bell and marched in, at the double, slammed to attention, snapping another parade ground salute.

"Lieutenant Colonel Samuels reporting, as ordered, Ma'am," he snapped and came to attention, gazing fixedly at a point on the wall above their heads.

"My senior officers and I have come to a decision," the Captain announced standing up, "We have decided to take your word and pledge."

The reply was snapped out as crisply as any parade ground command, devoid of any feeling.

She smiled, "You came armed, you were expecting a decision otherwise?"

"It was a possibility, Ma'am," the Colonel answered flatly.

"You were going to fight over it?" she questioned.

"No, Ma'am. I was going with honour intact."

It dawned upon the gathering that the Colonels word once given was total, they all relaxed. He drew his sword, saluted the gathering with it, then presented it handle first to the Captain.

"My bond," he stated.

She took the handle, tested the weight, then lifted it with both hands and examined it.

"It is a good weapon, very sharp, but heavy," she commented.

"It will make a mess of most of the ships bulkheads," he stated, "In the wrong hands."

"I think you had better keep hold of it then," she handed it back carefully.

In one smooth action he took it, twirled it around and slid it back into its scabbard where it locked into place.

"You left your pouch and ring behind," the Captain asserted, handing him the little leather bag, "Why do you carry it around your neck?"

"They are the only personal things I posses Ma'am," he informed her quietly, putting it back around his neck, "My wedding ring, a lock of hair, a bullet that should have killed me, a few gems acquired from here and there. Things to remind me that life is not always war, where else should I keep it?"

He gazed at their puzzled faces and smiled weakly, "If you will excuse me, Ma'am. I should like to retire to my billet, I still feel weak from recent activities."

"Very well, we shall have to find some worthwhile activities for you to do. For the time being I think Seven of Nine had better continue as your tutor and guide," the Captain agreed

He nodded, snapped another salute and marched out, sagging slightly as he left for his quarters.

"That could have gone worse," commented Chakotay, "Would he have resisted if we had decided otherwise."

Tuvok shook his head, "I do not think so, he had already given his word that he would respect the ships authority. He may prove a far more useful ally to us than we imagine. But we must find him suitable responsibilities."

"We will have to see how well he learns with Seven," said the Captain.

"Are you sure that Seven is the most suitable teacher?" Chakotay asked.

"Of all the people on this ship, the Colonel has been the first person she has ever taken a personal interest in without orders. He is also a lot more sensitive than we think, they could be good for each other," she explained, "And I expect everybody on this ship to assist her get through to him," she added forcefully.

  


"Seven of Nine, Personal Log." 

In her alcove Seven of Nine was making up her personal log before regenerating.

"The Colonel 'kissed' me for the second time today. This time it appeared to be an expression of farewell. He did not expect to be remain on the ship but denied any desire to fight to remain. For my part, I found it as disturbing as the first time, but I wish it to happen again. More data is required. I shall assign two hours to investigate Star Fleet records to identify the nature of the feelings. 

The Captain has instructed me to train him in Star Fleet protocols, procedures and methods. She believes there are similarities between myself and the Colonel and teaching him may be beneficial to me. I find I am not unhappy at the prospect of the task, he interests me! I shall make a point of making him efficient member of the crew."

Closing she stood in her alcove and initiated regeneration.

  


In his quarters the Colonel fiddled with a PADD and his own thoughts. Neither was helping the other, on one hand he was unsure of how to use the electronic terminal, he had already given up trying to dictate to the computer, on the other he was unsure of what he was going to record.

Throwing the PADD to one side, he demanded of the replicator. "Computer, I want a hard backed notebook 6"x8" two hundred pages of lined paper?" he asked. The replicator shimmered and to his amazement what he asked for appeared.

"Things are looking up," he thought.

He pulled out a pen from the remains of his possessions and settled down to write, using the brief note forms that he always used for sorting out his problems:-

'Voyager, high technology wonder ship- crew over reliant on technology to solve problems but good at/with it?'

'Discipline? Appears to be good, moulded by circumstance? Authority channels similar to RN but not as strong.'

'Captain- Kathryn Janeway- Strong leadership potentials, decisive, prone to act on impulse, loyal officers.'

'Seven of Nine- Ex-human-ExBorg, devastatingly attractive, outlook black and white, does not understand all human reactions therefore seems off hand to point of brusque in dealings with crew. Crew accept but don't like. Hyp. Crew afraid of what was. Not looking behind the mask. Prog. Rather like her the way she is actually!'

He studied the last comment, carefully. "Careful, Samuels old lad. You could be biting more than you can chew. She isn't going to be interested in you, even if she was, think of the age difference!" he thought, "Still even I have to have something to wish for."

He laid down his pen, and slept.

  


  


  


  


Raymond Gower Mon 14/Feb 00

Raymond Gower Sat 23/Dec 00

Sat 25/Nov 00

11249

Revision 74

23/12/001-01 Castaway18 of18


	2. 1-02 Kidnapped

# 1-02 Kidnapped

_In which Captain Janeway and several senior crew find themselves as 'guests'. The Colonel proves direct action can be beneficial and Seven of Nine learns human emotions and wishes she hadn't..._

_Disclaimer:- Characters in this story are factitious, no resemblance to real people is intended or should be taken. Voyager and all characters (except the Colonel) are copyright Paramount Studios._

_The storyline and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story@rgower.plus.com._

_This is the second story of a sequence. If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway._

_This story is rated PG_

_©R Gower 2000_

  


It had been two weeks since the Colonel had been accepted as part of Voyagers crew. He was finding ship board life difficult to adjust to, especially its reliance upon the high tech equipment. Fortunately for him the people he shared the ship with, had proved to be open and friendly, they had happily helped him when he ran into problems and smiled when they explained what he had done wrong. Especially Seven of Nine, who had assumed the role of his guide and mentor, not that she had smiled yet, he regretted that.

The story of how he had ended in the Delta Quadrant had circulated amongst the crew very quickly, and they had been scared of him at first, his strict politeness and formality made him appear remote. But as they picked up the courage to approach him, or if he approached them, they found that whilst still polite and formal, he was also prepared to talk with them amiably and intelligently and help them if he saw they were struggling, it put them at their ease. They found the Colonel's efforts to understand their world amusing, and the determined approach that he demonstrated in attacking each problem, no matter how small, impressed them.

  


He had now established a consistent routine. He would wake at 5:30 AM as he had done every conscious day of his life, then partake of a full hours heavy physical callisthenics. He had acquired a number of items from around the ship to assist him, and his muscles had now toned themselves to their previous firmness and resilience. He had noticed to his annoyance that he had put on some weight due to the relative easy pace on the ship, he was determined not to let it ride. 

At 6:45 he washed and dressed, ready to take breakfast on the mess deck when Neelix's canteen opened at 7:00. He had also made a point of using the mess for all his food requirements. Whilst most of the crew would have preferred to use replicators for their food, he preferred Neelix's fresh food for all its imperfection, to the synthetic perfection of the replicators. He had become friendly with the little Talaxian, because of this preference and they often discussed different recipe preparation tips. 

After breakfast he took some more exercise, generally in the form of a jog around the ships decks, familiarising himself with every possible route from place to place. Several crew members had taken to joining him for his 'daily gallop' as he called it, and it was not unusual to see six or seven of the crew charging after him, careering down the corridors.

He then joined Seven in Astrometrics for the days lessons at 9:30.

  


Today started as usual.

"Good morning Colonel," chimed Neelix as he saw him approach, "Your usual?"

"Please, with possibly a couple of slices of toast, burnt to a frazzle one side and untouched the other? Like yesterdays," he suggested, it didn't do to allow the chef to get away with everything.

"It was an accident!" protested Neelix, "I was distracted, my god-daughter was with me."

He took his plate to a vacant table in the corner of the mess, he needed to think, Seven had threatened to test him on his knowledge of gas clouds that morning.

"Hello, I'm Naomi Wildman, are you a monster?" a voice interrupted him.

He looked around, looking at him earnestly was a blond girl of about six, four feet tall with four nodules on her head.

"Not that I'm aware off," he replied, putting his spoon down to allow his attention to focus on the child, "What do you think?"

"I think you look awfully big," the girl answered coyly as way of reply, implying that size was a factor.

Amused he slid of his chair to sit on the floor in front of the youngster, meeting her eye to eye.

"Do you know what makes people big?" he asked.

The girl shook her head.

"It's not how they look, it's what they have here," he tapped her chest, "In the heart."

"Now, who do you think is the bigger of the two, the big sad giant sat on his own in the corner, or the little girl who came to talk to him?"

"Me," she giggled, "Your funny."

"It's been a long time since I was described as that!" he admitted.

"People say, that you kill people?" she questioned serious again.

"Sometimes, if it is necessary to protect yourself and your friends," he said slowly.

"Are you my friend?"

"I am friends with anybody who wants to be my friend."

"And if they're not you kill them?"

"People are allowed their opinions, it is only when they try to impose their opinion on others that it becomes a problem," he answered.

"Are you friends with the Borg Lady?"

"You mean Miss Nine," he corrected her, "Yes I'm fond of her, she's my teacher."

"I have to go to school too, perhaps you should come to my lessons as well," she piped.

"Perhaps I should, I might understand them," he laughed.

"My lessons today are with the Doctor, on cell structure."

"Ah, in that case I probably won't," he admitted, "It is not a subject we covered in my day.

"Now with your permission, I think we had better return you to your mother, perhaps you will introduce her to me?" he said getting up and taking her hand in his fingers.

She giggled and led him to the table at which her mother sat nervously watching her daughter talking to the tall soldier.

"Mummy, this is the giant, but he thinks I'm bigger here," she said proudly banging her chest, "He's my friend."

"Colonel Samuels, at you service Ma'am," he bowed.

She smiled nervously, "I hope she didn't disturb you?" she asked.

"Nothing I can't catch up on later, if Miss Nine doesn't throw me out for being 'inefficient'," he paraphrased.

She smiled again, more relaxed.

"I'm Ensign Samantha Wildman, ships geologist," she said "Will you sit down, now that you've brought my stray back. Have some coffee, or do you need to go for your exercise?"

"Thank you, Ma'am. My morning activities seem to garner quite a crowd," he admitted.

"You have a charming daughter," he added as he sat at the table.

"Did you have children?" she asked.

"Not as such, Ma'am," he said carefully, "But I've dealt with quite a few, some good, some downright awful."

"You seem a natural with them," she intoned.

He shrugged, "At that age it is reasonably easy to make an impression, it's when they get older that it gets difficult to pick the right tone to get your message across."

"Now I'd better go, or I'll be late for class," he drained his coffee, and grimaced, "Neelix's coffee doesn't get any better. Thank you for accepting me at your table, Ma'am."

He bowed again.

Across the room B'elanna Torres and Tom Paris, watched and smiled.

  


"You are late for your test," Seven intoned as he entered Astrometrics.

"Sorry Miss Nine," he answered meekly. 

There were times when she made him feel like a particularly slow child. She had been like this since he had kissed her a fortnight ago, thinking he was to be put off the ship. Maybe he would get her to smile one day, he thought.

She marched upto him and kissed him firmly, on the lips, wrapping her arms around him she pulled him close to her, her tongue teasing his lips, as he had done a little while ago. Before he could respond she stepped away to study his reactions. She was not disappointed.

"Miss Nine! That could be a very dangerous thing to do," he stammered, shocked by her provocative action.

"Was it not the same as your actions, when you thought you would be thrown off the ship?" she quizzed.

"Yes," he admitted still rattled, "But I think I may have had a better prefix for the action."

Her examination was tough, but after a couple of hours he put down his final PADD, with a sigh of relief. Silently she went through his answers. Finally she looked up.

"Your answer as to why a ship should not enter a high photon plasma cloud is insufficient, elaborate," she commanded.

Damn, the one item he hadn't studied last night.

"Because it is dangerous?" he suggested.

"Insufficient, elaborate," she demanded.

"Accurate though," he commented.

If she had been Miss Wilcox at the home, she would have been reaching for the cane right now. Desperately he racked his memory for the answer.

Suddenly it came to him. "A high photon plasma cloud may cause shields to fail due to overload, after which the positive charges may cause a chain reaction with the anti-matter containers causing explosion," he finished, elated.

"Correct," she said without inflection.

"Continue your studies on the mechanics and practical purposes of black holes."

She left for the daily staff meeting.

  


After the days lessons, still perturbed by her action, he went in search of Commander Chakotay on the bridge.

As he stepped on the Bridge, he snapped to attention and called, "Permission to step on the Bridge, Commander?" Noting the rank of the senior officer present.

Chakotay turned in surprise, "Please do, you don't often come to the Bridge unescorted? Nor do you need to ask permission to come upon it, is that another of your "Queens Regulations'?"

"Yes Sir, I'm army not Star Fleet, I can only be a guest. Therefore I need permission or an invite to step on the ship, or the bridge."

Chakotay was amused, the man lived by the Regulation, "What can I do for you Colonel?"

"Permission to talk with you, Commander. In private please?"

Chakotay was surprised, the Colonel rarely came to the bridge, let alone requested an audience, preferring to follow the channels as laid down in the 'Queens Regulations' that he followed rigourously, which meant through Seven as his notional commander, he pointed to the conference room.

"What can I do for you?" Chakotay asked, as they entered. "Are you having problems with a member of the crew?"

Crew affairs were his problem and he had sneaking suspicion he knew what the subject was going to be, Seven was a difficult person to get along with for everybody.

"Not directly, Sir," came the reply, "More with me!"

"Go on," Chakotay said, surprised and curious.

The Colonel went on to explain the happenings between Seven and himself, since he had joined.

"That doesn't seem so bad, it is good to hear Seven is responding. It could be said you led her on."

"Perhaps, Sir, but the one time I kissed her intentionally, it was as a 'Goodbye' because I was fully expecting to leave, if I had there would have been no complications, since I've avoided social interactions with her. It is not right for her to get involved with a man old enough to be her father. Hell no! an ancestor!" He exclaimed, "I'm aware that you are more liberal in attitudes than we were. But today, I could have had her over a control panel without a seconds thought, I'm not sure I could stand a second time!"

"The Doctors scans show that the nano-probes that rebuilt you, gave you the body of a man not more than thirty years, that's hardly an age of a father of a twenty-eight year old woman, and the other six hundred years are, as Seven would say, 'irrelevant', you didn't 'live' them," Chakotay pointed out.

Are you worried that you have feelings for her?" Chakotay asked.

"Yes!" the reply was simple, unequivocal.

Chakotay was amused, but hid it.

"I didn't think you could be scared of anything? What do you want me to do."

"Reassign me, even to the Doctor, at least I can't hurt him!"

'Hell, he must be terrified,' Chakotay thought. The Colonels antipathy to the Doctor was well known.

"If I reassign you, you will still come in close contact with Seven, the feelings will remain," he said mildly.

"How about off the ship?" asked the Colonel.

"I can't do that, the Captain will lynch me and with good reason, you are a member of the crew, what ever you think."

"I'll consider your request for reassignment, perhaps Tuvok can cover Tactical with you. Until then you will have to deal with your emotions as best you can," he finished.

"Thank you Sir," the Colonel, he saluted and left.

Chakotay smiled, he could not get used to the Soldiers formality, now he had found that he could be scared of the most natural things.

  


In her cargo bay Seven, noted in her log with some satisfaction, the Colonels reactions of shock and surprise to her kiss. She didn't note her disappointment that he had not kissed her back.

  


The next days staff meeting.

"How is your pupil shaping up?" Janeway asked Seven in the staff meeting.

"He is making progress, but he is inclined to being flippant if he hasn't studied the subject adequately, he is a poor student. He completed his studies on plasma clouds yesterday. On current progress he will successfully complete training to Ensign standard in 90 days," stated Seven. "He has asked to study the next part of the Syllabus in his quarters. I feel it is unsuitable, he will not see as much there as I can demonstrate in Astrometrics," she added

Chakotay stiffened uncomfortably as a double-entendre hit him.

"That's good progress, he's doing well, I failed that one twice?" commented Janeway.

"I had to make him re-answer a question on photon plasma clouds. He gave an insufficient answer, it indicated a lack of understanding."

"What did he put?" curious Ensign Kim asked.

"A Star Ship should not enter a photon cloud because, it is dangerous," admitted Seven of Nine.

Everybody grinned, it was a certain sign of somebody who had crammed revision and left items out gambling on the subject not coming up. They sympathised with the Colonel, at Star Fleet he might have got away with it, but not with the super efficient Seven of Nine.

"I would say that demonstrated a very practical understanding," claimed Tom Paris with feeling.

"It was an insufficient answer," repeated Seven defensively.

"Okay, how is he settling with the crew generally?" asked Janeway, bringing the meeting to order.

"Pretty well," said Chakotay, "His morning run around the ship has been noted, there are several people who regularly go with him, I tried myself, but had to give up half way round."

"So some of the crew is becoming fitter than they were, anything else?"

"B'Elanna and I watched him at breakfast, making friends with Naomi and her mother, I'd say he was a natural with kids," piped Paris.

B'Elanna spoke up, "He has been in Engineering several times, he's been moving power cells around for us, he even knocked up an alignment jig so that they can be placed more easily for charging, it's a lot easier now."

"The food's improved on the mess deck, since he started to give Neelix tips," commented Ensign Kim with feeling.

"His suggestions are often very practical," protested Neelix, "He takes an interest."

"So he is popular, mechanically adept, knows about food and is good with children," she summarised for them, "But they are features we don't have a great call for, so are of limited benefit to us. We need to find him a real function here. Remember he is not a simple crewman. We need to find something more suitable than a labourer."

"I know he has been testing weapons on the holodeck, it may be advisable to use his knowledge on what is his specialist field," suggested Tuvok.

"I'm listening, what have you in mind?" asked the Captain.

"We know he is a combat soldier, and has successfully combated the Borg in direct action, as such he is far more effective than security.."

Suddenly the ship rocked.

Klaxons sounded, "Captain to the bridge," a metallic voice sounded.

Everybody moved at once. B'Elanna to a turbolift for engineering. Seven of Nine waited for the rush to settle, the requirement for her services was less urgent than the Bridge Officers, besides, she doubted that the Colonel in his room would be inclined to panic.

"Report," snapped Janeway at the three ensigns manning the bridge.

"A ship materialised off our starboard beam and fired upon us. Shields are down, weapons off line, no other damage. Attempting to bring shields back up," replied the senior ensign.

"Open a channel!" the Captain commanded as the rest of the crew assumed their stations.

Before anybody could comply, she felt the fuzzy feeling of a transporter beam, taking her and her bridge crew off the ship.

They materialised in a dark room. Suddenly they were blinded by bright light. Tuvok his phasor ready, was shot by an unseen assailant.

"Put down your weapons, or you will die!" a voice demanded.

They were forced to comply. The doctor moved to Tuvok and started to examine the wound, "He is stunned only Captain, he will recover shortly."

"I am Kathryn Janeway, Captain of the Federation Ship Voyager, who are you and what do you want of us?" she demanded.

"Who we are is not important," a voice came from outside the light, "What we want, is your ship, undamaged, you are the key to that goal."

"They will not give it up for us!" claimed Janeway casually, "Can we discus the matter in a civilised way?"

"Those with you are the core of the command of your vessel, they will have little option," the voice rejoined.

There was a sound of a door opening and closing, then more general lighting came up. She looked around. The room was about 30 feet square and twenty feet tall, apart from the bridge crew there was nothing else. She admitted to herself that the voice was right all the senior crew was here, except .... She moved towards Chakotay.

"You are thinking of B'Elanna, she is a good Engineering Officer, but not a ships commander," he murmured. "I'd put faith in Seven of Nine finding us, but from there we are on our own!"

  


Seven stepped on the bridge, and gazed around at the empty bridge. She did the only thing she could think of. 

"Colonel Samuels report to the Bridge!"

In his quarters the Colonel responded to her command, "Coming, Miss Nine," he replied.

The voice was comforting, so she waited.

He arrived on the Bridge in short order, gazing around the empty bridge.

"So they've gone for a Chinese?" he suggested.

"They have been abducted," was the reply, "I am attempting to track the course of the vessel."

"Who is left?" he asked.

"I am uncertain."

He looked around, most of the terminals were still double dutch to him, nor did he want to interrupt Seven from her course of action, just to find who had gone.

He hit his own communicator. "Colonel Samuels to Lieutenant Torres."

"Torres here, I'm afraid I'm too busy to discus how the warp drive works."

"My compliments Lieutenant, but your presence is required on the bridge."

Something in the command made her stop short. 

"I'm on my way."

She arrived on the bridge breathless.

"Please, take your place Lieutenant," commanded the Colonel his back to her.

She moved to the engineering station.

"Not there!" the Colonel called, not turning around.

He indicated the Captains chair, she hesitated.

"You are the senior officer on the ship, you are now in command."

"But I'm not a Command Officer?" she protested.

"Some are born to command, most have it thrust on us. You are the senior officer on this ship, and this is not a democracy to be voted over," he growled.

"But you have the senior rank," she protested again.

He turned, she started. His face had become hard, the lips drawn and eyes burned.

"When I joined Voyager I stated that under no circumstances would I try to take command of this vessel from a legitimate commander, unless specifically requested in an emergency."

"Voyager is not in immediate danger and there is a legitimate commander. I will advise you, you may ignore the advice, but I will not command, that is what you are here for."

"Besides, I may be of more use when we find the bastards," he added in a dangerous tone.

Torres swallowed.

"Report, actions taken," she commanded nervously, still in awe of what she saw in his face.

He snapped to attention.

"Ten bridge crew have been reported taken by hostiles unknown, using what I believe is referred to as a cloaked ship. Shields are in repair, weapons off-line. Miss Seven of Nine is attempting to track the course of the hostile," he stated crisply. "Recommend, continued repair of shields and weapons system and bringing relief crew to take essential stations, or at least someone who knows which way up this goes, it's pretty meaningless to me."

She allowed herself a small smile at his attempt to lighten the situation and the implied intention to prevent her making silly mistakes, "Very well. See to it!"

"Yes ma'am," he replied. From memory he called members of the crew to take stations.

The relief crew appeared one by one. Several he knew were inexperienced, but were the best available. 

He moved to her side and murmured, "At least two of these crewmen are as green as grass, stamp your authority. They need you to be absolutely confident and decisive in every action and decision no matter what happens, remember that and you'll do fine."

She nodded nervously.

"I have identified the ships ion trail," announced Seven.

"We are being hailed, Lieutenant." this was from Ensign Carver at comms.

"Captain!" rebuked Torres, "Senior Officer on a Star Ship, when the designated officer is unable to take their position or give commands is the Captain, Ensign, don't forget it."

"Yes, Captain," was the chastened reply.

The Colonel smiled at Torres, restoring her flagging confidence.

"We are being hailed, Captain. Voice only."

"Put it on." She could do this.

"Crew of the Star Ship Voyager," it began, "We have your senior officers, we are not hard people, so we are prepared to trade them for something we need, we will call again in due course."

It finished.

"Recommend scanning for source and not replying at this moment Ma'am," the Colonel put in quickly, to prevent a reply being sent.

"Scan signal for source!" she ordered.

"Signal is a wide band general broadcast in this sector," was the reply.

"Being bounced around so as not to show their position which is wise, not replying means that they don't know where we are either which is just as wise," the Colonel commented.

"Unfortunately they don't have Miss Seven of Nine as a bloodhound," he continued.

She raised an eyebrow at them in recognition.

"Configure a probe as a relay and make it look like the ship, we'll drop it here, then they won't be able to track our signals," she commanded.

"Yes Captain, probe away."

"Captain to Engineering, engage the warp signature dampers," she could make her own decisions.

"Aye Captain," came the reply.

"Set course to follow the enemy's trail, warp one," she commanded.

The Colonel nodded, she had settled, she'd be fine now.

Seven chimed in again, "The trail leads to the fifth planet in system Z55432A," she hesitated for a moment, "Captain," she said at last.

She continued, "The planet is 'M' class, it has two small moons in close orbit."

"I shall map the planet from Astrometrics." 

She turned to leave.

"I'll accompany you Miss Nine," announced the Colonel. "Captain?"

She nodded an agreement, but her confidence left the room with him.

"Was it necessary to designate her Captain?" asked Seven as they took the lift to Astro Navigation.

"I believe so, she had to realise that she has total responsibility for the ship if the worst happens, and the crew have to know that as well," he explained.

"You will say that at the Courts Martial?" Seven asked.

"She is scared stiff, she needs confidence, but not her usual gung-ho nature. If Janeway acts like that then I have mis-read her from the start."

The ship was brought into a high orbit, masked from the surface by one of it's moons.

"I've located their ship and encampment," Seven declared to the small party in the conference room.

They looked at the map on the display board.

"How many?" asked the Colonel.

"One hundred twenty-two life forms, not including the Captain and other crew members," she intoned.

"They have deployed dampers around the camp, we cannot focus on their comm' badges, we are unable to beam them out."

"We may have to do this the old fashioned way," commented the Colonel.

"Go in phasors blasting you mean, it is too risky," claimed Torres, she was feeling her position.

Turning to her the Colonel said, "That may be this centuries method, but I was thinking more Twentieth Century Commando, in and out quietly."

"Explain?"

He started, "Use a shuttle to beam me down here," pointing to the map, "It's about a sixty miles from their base so they won't detect anything. It will take me twelve hours to reach this ridge about two miles from the camp and rest. It appears that they have neglected to put up a guard, a fatal mistake. Keep Voyager masked until called. If all goes well, I will go in during the night, distribute new communicators and blow the disrupters and everybody beams out safe and sound."

"If they start making demands, stall them as long as possible, insist on hearing from each crew member in turn, tell them the ship is too complex for them to handle given their low level of technology, you need to find manuals, anything, but don't threaten them until it is essential."

"Sounds simple, what if it goes wrong?" she asked.

"Then somebody learns how to die, but Captain Janeway will be safe I promise. I've been doing this sort of thing for a lot longer than those clowns down there, from both sides" he said simply.

"Very well, we'll do it."

"I'll be ready to go in twenty minutes, Ma'am."

"I will pilot the shuttle," said Seven.

  


The Captains crew settled down to wait. A thorough inspection of the hold they were in had shown no obvious means of escape, and their captors had offerd no further communication since their arrival.

Tuvok came to his senses slowly a couple of hours after being shot.

"How are you feeling?" The Captain asked.

"I will recover fully, Captain," he replied calmly.

A sudden shuddering and heavy thump heralded the ship landing. A few minutes passed then they were plunged into darkness again. A door opened in the wall and a bright light shone at them.

"Walk slowly towards the light," an amplified voice instructed.

"Who are you?" The Captain demanded again.

The voice ignored her, simply repeating it's instructions. 

Shrugging she led her party towards the light as instructed. As they emerged blinking into the light they were immediately caught and shackled, then pushed towards a large low building. The short walk gave them the opportunity to examine their captors. They were short and swarthy humanoids, hairless and dark skinned.

Unable to resist they were finally thrust unceremoniously into a new cell.

"At least they don't appear to want to kill us," suggested Chakotay, looking around the new cell. It appeared to be about half the size of the ships hold, and was similarly devoid of windows, furniture, or any other means of escape.

"If only they would talk to us," fumed the Captain, "Then perhaps we could come to some form of agreement, This is too dramatic to be successful."

"They think they have all the cards," pointed out Chakotay quietly, "They may be right."

"I will not give them the ship," she protested hotly.

"We haven't got it to give to them," he observed.

They settled into silence, finally she whispered in alarm, "There's something else in this room, I felt it run across my hand!"

Somebody screamed, "Rats!"

Everybody was up on their feet in a trice, desperately stamping their feet to frighten the rodents that were suddenly scurrying around them away.

"I'm not taking this!" The Captain snarled in fury and frustration.

She started to bang on the door, trying to attract attention from somebody outside. The door opened, but before she could speak she was clubbed to the floor. 

"Keep quiet!" the guard demanded, closing the door again.

  


"You should not take unnecessary risks, you should take a security team" stated Seven as they left Voyager, "You may be damaged and will fail."

"I've thought of that, the last thing I need down there is a bunch of amateurs stomping around like a school girls outing, I am better off on my own. As for being hurt, I'm really not very good at dying when I'm supposed to."

Seven turned in her seat, and placed a kiss on his cheek, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

"I may not get the opportunity to test these reactions again," she stated simply without emotion, she secretly enjoyed embarrassing this strange man.

Other than that, their short journey was uneventful and twenty minutes after starting off he found himself crouching scanning the beam down site.

"Hunter at start, all clear," he intoned into the communicator.

He set off at infantry pace to his attack point.

Aboard the Voyager, Torres sat tense, waiting.

Two hours after the insertion of the Colonel a voice came over the radio. "Voyager, these are our demands. You will move your ships to the co-ordinates 9954.301. You will then leave the vessel and move to the planet you will find there. Your Captain and crew will join you. You have six hours to comply to these conditions. After which one of your crew will be killed every thirty minutes until you comply."

"I am Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, Captain of the Star Ship Voyager, who are you?" she asked.

"You may call us the Vordun." came the reply.

"How do I know that the crew are safe? I wish to speak to them!"

"It will be arranged when it is time to say good bye to them!"

"If your going to kill them anyhow, why should I comply, you may have already done so!" She sensed the growing excitement and wondered if the Captain also had them when she negotiated. 

"I will not move until I hear from each one of them, alive and well," she added.

The voice of the Vordun was quiet for a moment, then said, "We will contact you again in one hour."

"Seven are you sure the crew are at the place that you identified?"

"Yes Captain."

"Have you traced the source of the signal? If they have to move the Captain then the Colonel won't find anybody there when he attacks."

"There are no other power sources emanating from the planet, they are there," Seven stated flatly.

"We could relocate the Voyager and monitor their movements," she suggested, "It can be done without jeopardising our hidden status."

"Good, do it."

"Can we advise the Colonel of our time limits?"

"I have been unable to trace the Colonel since he was beamed down," it was perturbing Seven of Nine that nothing she tried could find the soldier. "The only way of contacting him would be with a wide band signal, it would be traced."

"Captain, the Colonel was wearing his battle dress it would damp out his bio-signs," offered the junior Ensign at the pilots console.

"Thank you, Ensign," Torres answered calmly, "If we can't see him then they won't either."

All she could do was sit and wait.

"I need a coffee," she thought.

"Captain to Neelix," she could do what she wanted as Captain, couldn't she.

"Neelix here Captain?" the answer questioned everything.

She decided to be gentle. "Please, could you do me the favour of bringing coffee upto the Bridge. A lot of coffee."

"Coming right up, Captain."

  


The rats in their cell had gone as quickly and as quietly as they had arrived. Just as fortunately the Captain had not been seriously hurt by the assault, though her stomach and head hurt, where she had been struck. She had been sitting up getting her breath back when the door opened and six captors stepped in. They grasped her and the two people nearest to her and dragged them from the cell.

They were taken to another small room and were addressed by another unidentified person, "We are the Vordun. We know what we want," he announced in broken English, "If people give us what we want, we go as friends, yes. If we don't we kill and take it."

Your Captain has asked to speak to her crew, to ensure you are safe, before she gives us the ship. She wastes time, but we have plenty, Yes!"

He turned to a communications console and raised Voyager.

"We have three of your crew, they will speak for you crew, yes!"

He signalled to Tom Paris, who called, "B'Elanna, you're Captain now?"

"According to 'Regulations', I am," she hoped the inflection in her voice would carry a hidden message.

"Guess I should call you 'Sir' now then huh?"

"Guess so," she tried brightly.

The Vordun pushed him away and signalled to Chakotay. "How is the promotion?" He asked, trying to fathom out why Torres had lied to the Vordun.

"You know me, just hanging around for the right night, waiting for the opportunity." The reply was nervous.

Finally the Captain, "You're doing fine, is the crew behaving itself?"

"The caveman is doing what comes naturally," she replied honestly.

The Vordun went on again, "You have six hours."

"Wait, we cannot get to your location in time, your attack on us has caused a string of damage to our propulsion systems, we can't keep them working. We need at least four hours to make basic propulsion stable, another two for warp drive, you don't want a crippled ship do you?" Torres spoke quickly, keeping the panic out of her voice.

The Vordun thought quietly for a couple of minutes, then answered, "We think you are stalling, yes. We give you a five hour extension." 

He terminated the the link.

The captives were dragged back to their cell again and the Captain took notes.

"She said according to 'Regulations'," claimed Tom, "It suggests that the Colonel put her there."

"Why didn't the Colonel take control, he knows B'elanna isn't a command officer," asked Ensign Kim.

"He wouldn't unless the ship was in immediate danger, it's against 'Regulations', there is something else," commented the Captain. "What else did she say?"

"Hanging around, waiting for the right night, for an opportunity, that's not B'Elanna," pointed out Chakotay.

"And the caveman is doing what he does naturally." She looked up as the sums rattled to an answer, "I think we are in for an interesting evening, I almost feel sorry for the Vordun," she announced almost cheerfully, "They are unpleasant, undoubtedly thieves and murderers, but I'm not sure even they deserve what I think is coming!"

"Captain?" asked Chakotay.

"I think the Caveman, the Colonel," she corrected herself, "Is about to demonstrate why he impressed the Klingons. He's up to something and it will be tonight""

  


"I hope the Colonel is as quick as he claims and as fit as he looks," Torres said to Seven.

"He is resourceful." the ex-borg replied loyally.

A hunch crossed B'Elanna's mind.

"Seven, take the Delta Flyer and beam them up, if and when they succeed."

"Captain, the Colonels instructions were for Voyager to remain here for his signal."

"He also said I didn't need to follow his advice, if I thought better. My guess is that they will try to ensure we are where they think we are, we need to be there for them to see us crippled."

"I shall comply."

"Ensign, as soon as the shuttle has launched, return us to our original co-ordinates, plus say half a light year, then set course for their co-ordinates at 10% impulse."

"Aye Captain."

She watched the shuttle containing Seven of Nine roll away to take up its station, she had made a fateful decision, she worried it was the right one.

She nodded to the Ensign in the pilots seat, "Engage, warp 3," she ordered.

"Aye, Ma'am," the Ensign replied in confirmation.

She sat down again to wait.

  


From the ridge the Colonel viewed the base with the night binoculars. He had memorised the surrounds from the map, but it always paid to look before you leapt. Quietly he ate a food bar whilst waiting for night to fall, he tested his night sight and prepared to move down to the camp. He tapped the communicator, "Hunter in position."

In the shuttle, Seven replied to the message with a beep.

He ran the first mile and a half at a crouch darting from one clump of cover to another, never moving in the same direction for more than a few seconds, relying upon his continuously changing shape to deceive anybody watching that it was shadows they saw moving down the slope. At 400 yards from the camp he dropped to his stomach and took a brief rest, so far so good, anybody on guard was obviously asleep. He crawling along the ground on his stomach from there, as he had done so many times in his career. He shimmied to the first building.

Slowly he lifted himself up to peer through the window. It was a billet, about forty humanoids were sleeping. Wrong one. Carefully he flitted to the next, same thing, though the inhabitants were more voluble, that helped, a little noise wouldn't be noticed.

He moved the final building, which looked like a warehouse. He slipped in unnoticed, and flitted around drums towards the low mumbling noises he heard at the rear. Two Vordun were sitting at a table, their weapons leaning against the wall. A third was leaning against the wall further down the corridor, apparently reading a book of some nature. 

"Very sloppy," he thought.

He outlined a route to the table that gave maximum cover and started out. Half way across the floor he was spotted by the leaning guard. Rather than shout he scrabbled for his weapon. At twenty feet the Colonel couldn't miss even with the hand phasor and the guard crumpled, he dropped the phasor and drew his blade, the phasor was too bright to be safe to use as anything but desperate measures.

The two at the table started to scrabble for their weapons, but the Colonel was with them, two slices and they dropped to the floor. He picked up their weapons and made for the door.

"Key's," he thought, turning the fallen guards over he searched them, producing a thin metallic strip. It fitted the lock mechanism, the door opened. He was grabbed from inside and pulled in hurriedly and floored by a round house punch dealt by Chakotay.

  


Voyager took up the position prescribed by Captain Torres.

"Two Vordun ships are on long range sensors, approaching at sub warp speed, they have not detected us," advised the Ensign at Tactical.

"Keep our shields and phasors down," she ordered, "I want them close. Load torpedo tubes and target manually."

"Engineering, make it look as though we are having problems with main power," she called on her communicator, "Blip lights, vent gases anything, but make it look good. But I will want full power on demand, when Seven calls!"

Nervously they watched the two Vordun vessels approach to within 500 Km.

  


After a few minutes the Colonel recovered from Chakotay's widow making blow, to find the Captain and Chakotay kneeling over him. He rubbed his jaw carefully, "Do you mind? Here I am out of the goodness of my heart etc. And all you can do is thump me," he complained.

"We were afraid that they had come to take us to the rendezvous, they're running up engines now," said Janeway nervously. "Now how were you going to get us out."

"That's the difficult part, I'll have to deactivate some of their shields, but I think I'd better take you somewhere a little safer first, before they find they've lost a couple of people. Do not run, do not make a sound and stay with me," he commanded firmly.

He led them out of the building, around the back of the second, to the first.

"Quickly, under there," he hissed, pointing to a gap under the structure, "don't move, take these," he handed them a batch of communicators.

"When I've deactivated enough of the dampers Voyager will pull you out, I'll be covering the action."

He hit his communicator, "Hunter, target is set." And he disappeared.

  


Aboard the shuttle Seven of Nine shook herself from her nervous wait. 

"Seven of Nine to Voyager. Preparing to pick up survivors," she passed the message on calmly, then eased the shuttle to transporter range.

  


Seven of Nine's call although eagerly expected by the Bridge, still managed to take them by surprise.

"Engineering. Full power to systems!" Screamed Torres, "Shields up! Carver, fire torpedoes," she fired her orders of in quick succession, "Let's frighten the bastards before they fire back."

"Single hit on a Vordun vessel," Ensign Carver shouted from his console, appraising her of the success of his manual gunnery, "Their shields are down, some light damage. They are firing!"

Voyager rocked violently.

"Hit section 5, shields are down, minor damage, redirecting power," an Ensign called the damage.

"Carver! Target both ships weapons systems, torpedoes and phasors. Give them everything, but don't miss!" Torres yelled, feeling her own excitement build up inside her.

"Aye Ma'am!" Carver responded automatically, carrying out her instructions.

"Both vessels have been hit!" he called in jubilation at the results being returned by the computer console, "Shields and weapons off-line!"

"Hail them!" Torres ordered, struggling to calm herself, as Star Fleet it wouldn't do to get too carried away and follow up the tactical advantage with the total destruction of the enemy, unless necessary.

"Channel Open, Ma'am!"

"This is Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, Captain of the Starship Voyager. Go away, before I decide to destroy your ships!" She demanded hotly.

There was no response.

"They are moving away, Captain!" The joyous Carver informed her.

"Set course to collect the Flyer, Warp 3. Shields up and weapons on-line. We may run into more trouble!"

"Ma'am!" Her crew responded in chorus.

  


The Colonel found the first damper, and disabled it, then flit silently to the next. Seven had calculated that at least five of the nine units deployed would have to be disabled. The third was also dealt with. He now had to dash across 10 yards of open and lit ground to reach the fourth, try as he might he couldn't find a better route.

A shout came from the warehouse, the escape had been found. Without thought he dashed across the compound to the next damper. 

"Miracles, not spotted," he thought.

This one was a different design to the other three, he couldn't find the 'off' switch. In desperation he pulled it bodily out of the ground, turned it over and smashed it down again. It seemed to do the trick. But he had been spotted in the act. Laser fire flashed around him.

"Bugger," he thought, diving for cover and unshipping his rifle.

He took aim at the nearest sniper and fired, not waiting to see if he hit his target, he rolled and fired at another target. The next damper was less than twenty yards away. He leapt for it. A beam hit him in the leg, he lost all feeling in it, "Still no blood he thought."

The damper was another of the difficult to turn off kind he had just met. He drew his sword again, pirouetting on his good leg he brought the blade round in a huge arc, the jolt shook him, but it killed the damper. He fell to the floor, and picked up the rifle again.

He looked up and shot at another sniper less than thirty yards from him.

He looked for the next damper, thirty yards this time, he couldn't get that far with his dead leg. From his pocket, he pulled a device, a twenty-sixth century hand grenade. Desperately he activated it, counted to five and threw it towards the last damper, then buried his head in his arm.

It exploded in a flash, the damper disappeared, so did nearly all of what cover he had. 

"Voyager, NOW!" he shouted in is communicator.

He knelt up and started to fire rapidly at anything that moved, he wasn't able to run, so he would have to fight where he was, the main thing was to cover the escape of the Voyager crew..

Suddenly a dark shape flew low overhead, a series of lights flashing from it's front, and explosions flashed around the encampment. 

Everything dissolved as he was beamed out.

The shuttle was cramped, the Doctor had been deactivated to make space. It was Tom Paris running a tricorder over the Colonels body.

"A couple of scratches, some second degree burns to his leg, nothing that Voyager can't handle." he said confidently.

"All things considered that didn't go too badly. Permission to come aboard, Ma'am?" the Colonel said brightly.

Seven looked at him, her implant eyebrow raised questioningly.

"You could have got yourself killed," the Captain chided.

"There was no other way of getting past the shields and keep everybody safe," pointed out the Colonel.

"You should have left us then," claimed the Captain.

"Would you in a similar circumstance?" he asked.

The Captain changed the subject. "Where is the ship?"

Seven replied, "The Captain believed that the Vorduns would check to see how badly the ship was damaged, she returned it to its original co-ordinates. I have contacted them, they will be here in less than fifteen minutes."

"The Vordun ship will be here in less than ten," called Kim.

"Can you warp us out?" asked the Captain.

"No," replied Seven, "There is insufficient power, with the ship at this capacity."

"Weapons?"

"We are unable to lock a target, I had to jettison some items to make room," Seven admitted.

"Fly at them," called the Colonel, "You know the path the missiles will take unguided, point our nose at them and shoot."

Seven considered this suggestion, then swung the ship, "Coming about for a firing solution," she called.

"Missiles away," she intoned.

"Now swing us out of here, as violently as you like," called the Colonel.

"I cannot evaluate the performance of the weapons if we turn," Seven complained.

"They'll let you know soon enough," he replied.

"If they stop shooting then you destroyed them, if you miss they'll catch us."

The firing lessened. 

"You appear to have done some good," the Colonel observed. "Now keep twitching the Flyer around, think of where you would aim as a gunner and go another direction, it's called flying by the seat of you pants."

He looked at Tom Paris who was watching in amazement. 

"Sorry," he said, "I used to fly aircraft and helicopters at home. Ever try hedge hopping with a heat seeker up your tail? great fun but can be terminal."

Suddenly, Voyager burst upon the scene. The Vordun's veered away with photon torpedoes chasing them.

"Voyager to Delta Flyer, clear for docking," came B'Elanna's voice. "Welcome home Captain!"

Once aboard the Captain, with Chakotay chasing her, went straight for the Bridge. Bursting into the control room, she found B'Elanna Torres in the Captains Chair, the bridge crew smiling broadly.

"Two Vordun ships came and monitored our 'repairs', they took off when we went to warp to rescue you, Captain," she reported brightly.

Janeway was impressed, "Carry on 'Captain', well done all of you," she announced to the crew on the bridge, "Now I need some food, a shower and some rest. Call me tomorrow."

  


In sickbay the Colonel and Tuvok were being treated by the Doctor. 

"You will be happy to know," he said to the Colonel, "That despite Mr Paris's ministrations, you will make a full recovery."

"As long as I don't have to stay here," he remarked cheerfully.

"Why did you make Lieutenant Torres Captain and not yourself?" asked Tuvok.

"You know, the foundation of the Queens regulations were set down in the mid Seventeenth Century, by a combined panel of British Army Generals and Royal Navy Admirals, by standards of the time they were very gifted men," replied the Colonel, in explanation. "They laid down the rules for every possible scenario, even to dealing with unknown forces. I simply followed those rules. No land officer shall command a ship at sea, no naval officer shall command a land operation, a nice clear and logical demarcation, wouldn't you agree?"

  


At breakfast the next morning Torres and the Captain appeared and sat with the Colonel.

"Back to Lieutenant again Lieutenant?" he asked.

She smiled sweetly. "It was fun while it lasted, but I wouldn't like it full time, it is too stressful."

"Give it time," he said, "Command is like a drug, the longer you have it the more you need it, wouldn't you agree Captain?"

"You seem to have managed to drop it?" laughing she replied.

"I'm old enough to know better, but I don't," he sadly replied.

"I understand you had some fun as well. My compliments upon your actions, Lieutenant, you performed at least as well as I would've expected," he complimented the Klingon Engineer cheerfully, to her obvious embarrassment.

"Now, I must return to my studies, if you'll excuse me. Our delectable dragon queen, who is eyeing me with the look that says you are dead meat, has informed me that I am to sit her test on Black Holes today and I don't think a reply like, 'Ships entering a black hole are unlikely to emerge the same shape and size as when they entered' will impress."

"Sounds good to me, but I suspect you are right," the Captain laughed again.

As he left the Captain turned to her Engineering Officer.

"You did well over the last couple of days, I am as proud of you as the Colonel!" 

"It was all the Colonels doing and idea's," Torres protested.

"Not all of it, you took his advice, but you also did what you thought was correct and everybody survived intact, it is a sign of a good officer."

"Knowing how to put command on scared people and getting them to accept it and perform, is the sign of a better one," said Torres with feeling.

"I think I shall have to borrow his 'Queens Regulations', then get Star Fleet to adopt it in its entirety, there is a lot of sound wisdom in there," commented the Captain with a grin.

  


The Colonel showered in his quarters and was preparing his uniform for the day, padding around with a towel around his waist.

The door opened and Seven entered.

"I wish to talk," she stated.

"I understand door bells are rung so that people aren't caught naked in the middle of dressing," suggested the Colonel gently.

"Your state of dress is irrelevant, I have seen your body in sickbay," she announced coolly, looking him up and down with barely disguised interest.

"But I wasn't awake then, nor was I much to look at," he pointed out.

"Irrelevant!" She exclaimed. She licked her lips as she continued to watch him. Nerves she told herself, to explain a tingle she felt in her spine.

"Okay, lets talk, please make yourself comfortable," he waved her to a chair, noticing her nervous reactions.

"Yesterday when I beamed you aboard injured, I was disturbed." Seven claimed, still keeping her voice calm and collected.

"Why? You've seen people hurt before, even after your Borg experience. Heavens I was much worse when I joined the ship," he pointed out bluntly.

"I have been trying to rationalise my feelings, they are unlike anything I've experienced since the Collective."

"Go on," He prompted, his interest was being roused.

"I wish to know more about you?" She claimed as coolly as she could.

"Where do you wish me to start?" He asked gently, "It could be a long story or a very short one."

"From the beginning," she demanded firmly.

"Please sit, while I collect some thoughts," he asked. 

She did as he bid.

He sat down in another chair and began.

"Born 1943, in war torn Aylesbury, England. Parents died in a road accident in 1944. Put with foster parents until I ran away four years later, they were drunkards and often beat each other and me. Then escaped from a series of orphanages until the age of fifteen, left school with nothing, joined the army as a drummer boy, regular army two years later. Made sergeant at the age of twenty-two, commissioned 1970, made Colonel 1990, in short the army was my life and family, I don't think I took more than a week off from when I joined until the day I was married. Saw action in Egypt, Vietnam, Ireland, Kosovo, Falklands, Kuwait and a few other grizzly little affairs, averaging I suppose one action every few months. Married 1990, you know how I lost my wife. The rest you know because you've seen it."

"Did you have anything of your parents?" She asked, fascinated.

"Maternal parents, nothing at all. My foster parents, a few bruises, I never saw them again after I ran away."

"Describe your wife?" Seven demanded

"She was a Swedish interpreter at their embassy in South America. Five feet six, 110lbs, blonde hair almost white not the straw of yours. Eyes deep blue. Fine build, not as curved as you, but she was a beautiful person inside." 

He stopped, remembering, his eyes watering.

"I'm sorry, do you wish me to continue?" he said wiping his eyes on the towel.

She felt a new feeling sweep over her, a strong urge of compassion. She had often felt that she was misunderstood on Voyager, that nobody had understood her, in short, she now realised, sorry for herself. Now she had a new story of misery, this time it appeared far worse than hers and in somebody she had new 'feelings' for. He had been kicked to the ground and kicked again, but had got up, started again and had survived.

She stood, as did he. She couldn't help it, she fled his quarters.

  


He was late arriving for his examination, silently she gave him his test, he grimaced then grinned at her as he took her proffered PADD. She returned to her consoles, but continued to watch him intensely from her station as he struggled with the exam. 

At the staff meeting, she said little, even when acknowledging the congratulations for her work during the Vordun affair. The Captain watched her concerned, after the meeting she asked, "What's up Seven you were barely with us in that meeting."

"I talked with the Colonel, I asked him about his past," suddenly she sobbed.

Janeway, shocked at the sudden display of emotion from the normally impassive woman, stood and watched her, not knowing what to do.

When Seven had recovered slightly, she started again, "From his logs, I thought his life had many parallels to my own, I was interested in him. But when he went over it, it is much worse! He never had parents, apart from two years with his wife, has known no human caring emotions, the army has been his life. His life appears to consist of fighting and people trying to kill him. Without a collective to protect him he has to hide his real feelings, but they are still there and they hurt him, I made him cry, then I ran from his room. But he is so easy and friendly to people, he feels for everybody but himself, why can't I be like him?" she blurted.

"The Colonel's certainly made this girl human," she thought shocked by the outburst, "Talk of the floodgates opening. What can I do?"

"Who says you should be like him?" she asked gently, "I'm certain he doesn't and I don't. I couldn't survive two of him, or two Sevens for that matter."

Seven looked into the older woman's eye's, "You think so?" she sniffed again.

"I know so," Janeway replied.

"I don't think there is another person like him in the galaxy, nor is there another Seven of Nine, you are both unique individuals, yet you are very similar. The Vordun affair proved that, you both took each others lead and you worked perfectly together, carrying everybody with you," she continued approvingly.

"You care for him don't you?" Janeway asked intently.

"I am unsure Captain," said Seven gallantly gathering her composure. The feelings I am experiencing are unlike anything I have experienced.

"I'm not!" she said firmly.

"Would you like me to have him reassigned? Until you can come to terms with you feelings?"

"No! I shall carry out my duties as you prescribed," Seven replied firmly fully recovered again.

"Good, now go and be Seven of Nine, don't pretend to be something you aren't but think you ought to be, The Captain prescribed. If you are to change it will happen without you noticing it. If it's any help the Colonels feelings for you are as strong as yours are for him, and he is even more scared of them than you, he has asked to be put off the ship, for your protection. Chakotay said no."

"When was this?" curious Seven asked.

"A three days ago, when you kissed him. He thinks a lot of you, he doesn't want you hurt. I think you two should get together on your own without duty to worry about and work it out."

"Thank you Captain," Seven turned and walked away.

Taking hold of her own emotions, the Captain shrugged, "I'm a mother to a woman who is only ten years younger than me and a six hundred year old man, I'm getting old before my time."

  


"Your answers are within acceptable parameters," Seven announced, reviewing the Colonel's answers some two hours later. "We shall consider the next subject."

The Colonel raised an eyebrow, this was Seven as he knew and preferred her. He had effected to miss the reddened eyes, but secretly was distressed at the anguish that they displayed, he had a fair idea as to who had caused it. Thankfully he prepared for her next task.

"Do your worst, Miss Nine," he challenged her, smiling.

"I wish to apologise," she stated flatly.

"For what?" he asked in surprise.

"My actions this morning, forcing you to reveal your past, it upset you," she claimed, keeping hold of her voice.

"It looks as though my story may have upset you more," he suggested quietly, "It should be me apologising to you for making it sound so bleak."

"I wished to know more about you, to identify the reasons for my interest in you. I should not have asked the way I did," she stammered slightly, trying to explain her actions.

He saw her swallow and realised she was fighting distressing emotions of her own. He got up from his chair and walked over to her, gently he placed his arm around her for comfort.

"Would you like to talk? I may be able to help you identify the reasons for your distress," he offered gently, "I'm a very good listener, with a very poor memory when needed and a waterproof shoulder."

The sensation that she received with his arm around her was new and strange. Nobody on the ship had ever held her like that before. She found herself torn between the conflicting desires to pull away and to put her head on his shoulder. She desperately tried to analyse the sudden flush of emotions, in the end she did nothing.

"I'm sorry," he claimed feeling her indecision and withdrawing his arm, "That was inappropriate. But I mean what I said, I may be able to help you work out your problems."

"The Captain and the Doctor have tried," she pointed out quietly, "Why should you be any more capable?"

Again he felt her indecision, "Do you want a full resume?" he asked, "The safety of the ship and crew won't be in jeopardy if I don't appear on the Bridge or Sick Bay at regular intervals, that means I have as much time as you need, for as long as you need it and whenever you need it. Nor can anything you say hurt me, so you can be honest, you don't have to hide anything the way you would with say, the Captain."

"You believe I hide my emotions from the Captain?" She asked bewildered.

"Hide is too strong a word perhaps," he admitted, "But you can't let yourself go properly, you think she will judge you on your past and it may influence her opinion. You don't want to look weak in front of your role model, yet you find it hard to ask the questions you need to, about the things you feel you don't understand. 

I don't know your past, I can't judge you on mine without putting my own head in a noose and my opinion doesn't have any influence on anybody here. We may even be able to help each other with the things we don't understand."

She felt herself sway to his gentle persuasion and simply stated arguments. He was right, she decided, there were many things from her life as a Borg that hurt to think of, but she had hidden from the crew fearing their condemnation. Perhaps she could confide them to the tall soldier in a way she would never be able with the Captain, despite her understanding nature. Perhaps he could explain the puzzling differences in attitude that were displayed towards her between the crew. It would certainly men she would find out more about the strange man that stood before her.

"Somebody or something has hurt you badly in the past, the memories still hurt you, your frightened of them but can't let go of them because you think they are damning," he claimed quietly. 

He was reading her thoughts, she decided in shock.

"I can't make it go away," he confessed gently, "But I can help you come to terms with the memory, then it won't hurt anymore!"

"You are a telepath?" She queried suddenly.

He looked at her blankly, "Sorry?" He queried.

"You can read peoples minds," she explained patiently, he is a primitive,' she thought.

"Oh, I wish people wouldn't use words I don't understand," he commented. 

"Suffice to say I've listened to, bullied, sometimes helped and otherwise dealt with a lot of people for a long time. After twenty years you start to understand them," he announced. 

"You however are an enigma," he assured her with a smile, "I know you are frightened of some things, and unsure of a lot more, especially me. But you are also a lot bigger, braver and stronger than you realise and you 'feel' a lot more than you understand or let on. I've met people like that, but they've always refused any offer of help," he confessed.

She thought for a moment longer then announced, "I accept your offer to talk," she tried to say it firmly enough to sound decisive, but she could feel her nerves rattle the words.

"Thank you," he breathed, "I am at your service whenever you need me," he bowed low before her.

"We will start this evening," she decided, "I shall summon you!"

"Very good Ma'am," he intoned formally to match her resumed cool tones, bowing again.

"This afternoons lesson will be?" He asked.

"We shall continue our assessment of the practical purposes of Back Holes," she stated calmly.

"Ma'am," the Colonel replied, resuming his seat.

  


She arrived at his quarters at 7:00 PM. Nervously she rang the door chime, wondering what she was going to say and why she was there at all. He opened the door for her.

"I have come for our talk," she declared as he let her in.

"This is perhaps not the best place," he suggested with a tinge of nervousness, "A strange mans quarters is not conducive for a young woman to relax. It may have implications for your reputation."

"It is the most private place on the ship," she assured him calmly, surprised by his nervous reaction.

"As you wish Miss Nine," he sighed, "Please make yourself comfortable, may I prepare you a drink?"

"That will not be necessary and my full designation is Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero-One," she responded automatically and sitting bolt upright in one of the rooms easy chairs. She looked around, a little surprised, her experience of the people on the ship suggested that given a private space they would quickly fill it with pointless bric-a-brac to make it feel comfortable, apart from the curtains he had put on the window, this room was as empty as when he had taken occupation.

"I apologise," he announced formally, colouring in embarrassment, "I was under the impression that Seven of Nine was your full name, Miss Zero-One."

He placed a carafe of water and two glasses on the side table he had placed between the two easy chairs in the room. 

She tried to decide if he was making fun of her, but the embarrassment he showed on his face was self evident of the error he had thought he had made.

"I am known as and prefer Seven of Nine," she pointed out coldly.

"It would be improper for me to refer to you by a Christian name, Ma'am, I am under your instructions," he protested.

She relented at the confusion that was evident and his determination to remain formal to the status given him. "You may refer to me as Miss Nine," she conceded.

He sat in the chair opposite her.

"Where do you wish me to start?" She asked, feeling her nerves start again.

"Where ever you like, but the beginning is usually helpful," he suggested mildly, "You are welcome to leave anything out, just as you are equally welcome to leave, cry, scream or attack me if you think it helpful," he offered, "Just don't damage the curtains, I don't think I could repeat them again on the replicator," he added with a smile.

I have observed you have not replicated the superfluous items that many humans prefer to surround themselves with, she commented.

There are good reasons for that, he admitted with a grin. The main one is that the replicator and I don't talk the same language, that's why I'm rather proud of the curtains, even if the are a bit plain! 

Please! I am all ears!

"I was born on Earth, and was given the name Anneka Hansen," she started, "My parents were Exo-Biologists. They decided they wished to make a detailed study of the Borg."

He lent forward quietly, listening intently to every word she uttered. As she continued her story she felt her emotions start to move. When she hesitated, feeling distress at what she was saying, he lent forward and gently held her hand in both of his, it was comforting and her story became easier to tell again.

After two hours she stopped claiming, "That is my life."

"It isn't," he corrected her gently, "You've not told me everything you want to yet, but perhaps you will wish to tell me more at some other time."

"Perhaps," she conceded, taking a glass of water, her mouth suddenly dry. He was still holding her hand gently.

"You know," he started "The Borg haven't harmed you, they have helped make you what you are. That is not a bad thing, despite how it may look to others. They have taught you to handle things that your parents alone would never be able to teach, yet they have left you with some of your parents human strengths as well," he commented gently.

"You think my parents were bad parents?" She demanded.

"No," he refuted adamantly, "I'm sure they loved you, and tried to bring you up the way they believed was right. The Borg brought you up the way they believed was correct. Neither would be the way I would choose, but who's to say what I achieved, should I ever have children, would be any better than theirs?"

"I realise that terms like pride and honour have little meaning to a Borg drone," He continued, "But you were a soldier in an army, when you look back at your experiences, perhaps you should feel a little pride in having performed your duties, even on the occasions that you find harrowing now. Those same experiences are what have helped you to adapt and operate so well on this vessel. The fact that others tell you that your actions were bad is irrelevant and narrow minded on their part. If I knew more about the galaxy I would point you at any number of races who would claim the Borg show too much compassion, I could certainly do that with some of the Earth races I've met. Some of them put weapons in the hands of children as young as five and expect them to kill, not even the Borg do that!"

"You believe the Borg are not a bad race?" She asked clumsily.

"If I was a Borg I wouldn't think I was bad because I would share their concepts of good and bad," he pointed out quietly, "I've done some of the things you described, possibly even worse. I didn't always like having had to do them, but I had to follow orders. I have human standards, to those standards they are bad and I have done bad things."

She pulled her hand away and stood, "I must regenerate," she claimed coolly, "Our talk was helpful, I will consider your comments."

"As you wish, and I am glad to be of service," he replied, also standing.

Unthinkingly he put an arm around her again and pulled her close. This time she did respond, to the attempt to comfort her, she buried her head in his shoulder, trying to maintain her composure.

"You have more to tell, I know," he whispered gently holding her close, but struggling hard against the desire to kiss away the emotions she was obviously suffering from. 

"Just remember I'm always available when I'm needed."

She left for the cargo bay and her alcove.

  


"Seven of Nine, Personal Log," she demanded on reaching the bay.

"I spent three hours in the company of the Colonel, explaining my actions as a Borg. I am uncertain why I wished to tell him the things I did, I find the memory of them disturbing. I expected him to refuse to listen and condemn my actions as others have done, instead he listened intently and offered opinions that endorse my experiences. I believe his statements have validity."

"He is unlike the rest of the crew, he is more open in his opinions of other races and has a close understanding of human emotions. He has a more tactile response to emotion than the crew, he held my hand and put his arms around me when I was upset. It appeared to be a means of displaying concern for me, the sensations I felt were strange but comforting. I believe he will do it again when I decide to talk to him in a similar manner. It is strange but I will look forward to the experience!"

"End Log," she snapped finally, and settled herself in her alcove.

  


The Colonel also made up his diary, his notes were short and explicit.

"Miss Nine's confessional was illuminating and slightly distressing. She has done many things that people have since told her are bad, it's not surprising the poor girl is so ashamed of what she is, scared of what she ought to be and hides so much. I thought I had it bad! I hope she accepts the invitation to talk again!"

  


To his surprise the Captain joined him for breakfast again the following morning. Smiling she waved him back to his seat as he stood to attention at her approach.

"There is a rumour that Seven was in your quarters last night?" She inquired quietly.

"Ma'am," he confirmed calmly, secretly alarmed at how quickly the rumour had spread.

"She won't appreciate hanky-pankey and I'm sure she's not ready for a relationship," she teased.

"No impropriety occurred Ma'am," he assured her, "Nor do I wish to involve myself in any form of relationship with her, merely friendship. Our meeting was more of a confessional and I would do the same for anybody who needed a suitable listening ear."

"Care to share what you discussed?" She asked hopefully, "I might have an effect on the ship."

"No Ma'am, the discussion was private," he responded sharply, "If I believe it may negatively affect your ship, then I will inform you."

Stunned by the sharpness of his response, she responded curtly, "If your feelings get in the way of her duties that will be a negative impact."

"I will ensure they don't, Ma'am," he assured her, "I'm carrying out your orders to look after Miss Nine."

"You took that as an order! It was intended as a joke!" She exclaimed, shocked.

"Jokes usually start differently, Ma'am," the Colonel opined, "And you were right Miss Nine does need looking after, it is just the level of looking after that needs to be established."

"Permission to speak freely, Ma'am?" He asked quietly.

She was surprised by the request and looked at him sharply, "Request granted Colonel," she uttered.

"Miss Nine doesn't understand many of the human emotions or reactions she is experiencing, Ma'am." He pointed out. "As I understand it, since the age of six she has been without a human parent to demonstrate the physical nature of love and caring, things like touch, private confidences and easy conversation. From what she has told me of her parents, they were not exceptionally strong on that side either, preferring to root around whatever was their interest at the time, bugs or Borgs, both seemed as or more important than their child's development. She received nothing here either, when you 'liberated' her. To be honest you seem to have treated her as more of an automaton than a confused young woman trying to find her way, and without a childhood to look back to for guidance, to an extent you still do," he stated.

"I think she is forming a mistaken attachment to me because I'm the first person who has actually treated her as a real human, without thinking of her past or expecting her to simply believe everything I say."

She looked at him in surprise, "I didn't realise I did that!" She exclaimed. "Is this a result of your discussion?"

"To a large extent it is," he admitted candidly, "But there are personal observations as well."

"It affects the crews attitude to her as well, only they are worse. Perhaps that's because of what they've experienced. When you give her orders, it's as though your instructing the replicator. If she asks a question over something that confuses her, you answer as though she is a child, simply giving her an answer rather than explaining and letting her form her own opinions," he argued. 

"You suggest to her that the are Borg evil, and you are correct, they do seem evil to you. But they are acceptable to the Borg and she was one. I know human races that are, or were, in my view, considerably worse than the Borg, yet they also thought they were the last word in humanity. I've even done some of the things you condemn in the Borg, only I was a volunteer and not coerced or taken over and it was in the name of humanity and democracy, perhaps you should lock me up for crimes against humanity?"

"You're saying the Borg aren't evil?" She asked incredulously.

"No, Ma'am!" He protested, "I'm just pointing out it takes all sorts to make a world or a galaxy for that matter, forcing people to believe that you are the true faith is what causes wars! Miss Nine should be allowed to form her own opinions from her experiences, just as you, I and everybody else on the ship. Not simply told what is and isn't right!" 

"That what your hoping to achieve from your conversations is it? Help her form her own decisions? Your not going to sway them for her, make her like you?" Her questions were sharp and quick.

"She is far to intelligent to be like me," He protested, "I think she will find her own conclusions, they will be influenced by me, you and everybody else she meets, we may not like them but they will be her own and should be respected."

"When she does, then she will be better human than either of us simply because her breadth of knowledge will have been enhanced by what she learnt as a Borg assimilating other races." He predicted. "Who knows she might even come to her senses decide I am an egotistical bigot and refuse to talk to me again?"

"With your permission, Ma'am? It's time for my gallop." He announced.

She nodded an approval, deep in thought over his comments. 

They certainly formed food for thought, she decided. She would have to pay close attention to her ways with Seven and keep a careful eye upon the Colonel's discussions. There was more to them than met the immediate eye. She wondered again how a man from so long ago could possibly understand and affect the people around him so easily

He got up and left her to speculate on the comments.

  


  


  


28/12/00 1-02 Kidnapped 1 of 1


	3. 1-03 Friends are Made Like This?

# 1-03 Friends Are Made Like This?

_A freak event leaves Voyager stranded and almost powerless. Seven of Nine and B'Elanna embark on a mission to find the materials needed to effect a repair and the strange soldier provides another facet of his abilities._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail _[_story@rgower.plus.com_][1]

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway. Try my home page [http://www.thestoryboard.co.uk][2]_

_This story is rated PG _

_©R Gower 2001_

"Bang!" The reverberations echoed through Engineering as the main power coupling from the anti-matter converter failed again, leaving Voyager drifting in space, as she had been for nearly twelve hours. They thought they had got away with it that time.

The whole of Engineering gazed at it in resignation and waited for the explosion.

It came but it was aimed at a new quarter.

"God dammit, Seven. Get out of my way!" B'Elanna snarled savagely at the slender figure of Seven of Nine as it darted past her towards the failed power coupling. "Better still, get out of my Engine Room and chat up your boyfriend!" 

The power coupling she had been working on all morning had proven to be tempermental, tripping every time power was applied. Every time it tripped out she painstakingly pulled it out, rechecked the unit for new faults, adjusted and checked the circuit for overloads, then reinstalled it. Only to have it spat out again two minutes later. Her mood was best described as vile, even her engine room crew, used to their shift commanders tempers, were keeping well clear.

Interference from the Borg they realised would be as gratefully received by the Engineer as a sonic boom over a glass hot house in the snowy wastes of Rigel. It would be even worse if she was proven correct. Subconsciously they took cover from the blazing argument that was to come.

"Boy Friend?" Seven of Nine paused and pondered the term for meaning. "A male social companion, usually linked to the creation of a relationship of an intimate nature," she recited 

"I am not engaged in such a relationship. There is nobody aboard this vessel suitable," she decided, before returning her attention to the coupling again.

"Then go back to your 'not a boy friend' Colonel," Torres snapped. "Perhaps he likes you, I don't!"

"The unit is faulty, it should be replaced," Seven argued, reaching for her tricorder, insensitive to the Klingons growing temper. "The continued reinsertion of the unit is inefficient and ineffective."

"I would replace it if I had one!" B'Elanna pointed out in exasperation. With the last vestiges of self control she continued. "But all I have is this second hand one from a one hundred year old Klingon troop ship, that only ever found how to get lost!"

"The Trilite coating inside the unit is imperfect," Seven interrupted, flourishing the tricorder in victory.

"And I'm sure you have one in your pocket?" B'Elanna sneered.

"My garment does not posses a pocket."

The last statement, devoid of emotion or humour, proved too much. Torres launched herself at the tall slim woman in a flurry of nails and teeth.

The surprised looking Seven of Nine stood and calmly repelled the attacks until Security arrived to break them apart.

Captain Janeway stood and gazed at her two crew errant members with barely concealed contempt after they had been frog marched in to face her. She sucked on her teeth hard before speaking, she could do without this.

"What happened?" Her voice was slow and quiet with willed self control.

It was B'Elanna that stepped forward to speak. "I was trying to get a replacement power coupling operational and it was proving difficult," she explained. "Seven barged in as it failed."

"The unit is faulty," Seven protested. "There is little benefit attempting to utilise the component."

The Captain looked back at her Engineer. "Is she right?"

Cautiously B'Elanna nodded. "But it is less faulty than the one I took out. I was hoping to get enough power through it to allow me to complete the replication a new one."

"That is a major power coupling," the Captain pointed out. "Why wasn't there a spare available?"

"The one I took out was the spare," B'Elanna said. "We lost one with the Vordun last week, trying to be a damaged ship. The spare failed during the Ion storm last night. There hasn't been the time for the replication of another one. The Klingon thing is all I have to get mains online again to finish the replication."

The Captain considered her next options carefully.

"I needn't remind you," she said carefully. "That brawling between my officers cannot go unpunished and not to be seen as unpunished. At the same time we are in a Star Ship in the middle of the Delta Quadrant without a warp drive or weapons and you two are amongst my most able crew in your fields and I need your services."

"I am surprised at you B'Elanna," she rounded firmly on her senior engineer. "After your performance last week with the Vordun, I had thought you had really conquered your temper!"

B'Elanna squirmed under the withering fire from her Captain.

"And I had thought that you, Seven, had learnt enough not to interfere with something that had little to do with you and hadn't been asked for help with. Why were you in Engineering?"

"I was looking for old warp components. The Colonel's comprehension is improved if he has items he can touch compared to simulations," Seven admitted.

The Captain softened a little at the mention of their Twentieth Century passenger. "Where is he?"

"He was studying in his quarters," Seven sniffed. She didn't approve of him studying out of her sight.

Captain Janeway turned away and stifled the small grin she could feel forming. The Colonel was Seven's student and she was taking great pains to ensure his education was perfect, but she didn't seem to realise the effects she was having upon him.

Finally she turned back. "Confined to quarters, two weeks. Loss of all privileges, two weeks. B'Elanna go over what needs to be done to get the coupling working with Vorik. Dismissed!" She snapped.

Even that punishment, harsh as it seemed, didn't sound as though it was going to do the trick, she realised. She quite plainly heard B'Elanna say, 'Come near me again and I'll break your nose!' to Seven of Nine as they marched crisply away. She would have to think of something else.

Resigned to that fact she left her Ready Room and headed for Deck 3 and the Colonels quarters, she would have to find somebody else to look after the Colonel, she didn't want him cooling his heels without something to occupy him. The anarchy that could spring from the powerful man, if he was too bored, would make B'Elanna and Seven's squabble look like a pillow fight.

He wasn't in his quarters as Seven of Nine had predicted. In alarm she activated her communicator to get the computer to find him.

"Colonel Samuels is in the Mess," the metallic voice informed her impassively.

A relieved Captain hurried on. Whatever her concerns were they were groundless, she realised, as she burst into the Mess. The Colonel was sat at a table in animated conversation with Tom Paris.

As she drew closer she over heard the subject of the discussion.

"I think you may be getting yourself confused," the Colonel stated firmly. "A lot of the music you have quoted doesn't actually belong to 1954, its actually from several years later. Certainly Bill Hailey didn't make it big until the later half of '58. The people you really need for your simulation are the likes of Buddy Holly, Lonnie Donegan, perhaps some early Elvis and terrifyingly Jim Reeves."

"But the records?" Paris protested.

"Inaccurate as usual," the Colonel deflected. "Remember I was there! They were days of Skiffle, Bee-Bop and ballads not Rock and Roll."

The young Lieutenant subsided into silence at the irrepressible conviction of the taller man. The Colonel smiled quietly in victory, but managed to be magnanimous all at the same time. 

"If it is any help, they were getting it wrong long before I left. If you like the music, why don't you simply move the focus of this programme of yours?" He suggested. "The newspaper headlines would change, but you aren't there to read them. You can move the location so it is more Mid-West, then the car won't look out of place for the year."

He caught sight of the Captain approaching and leapt from his chair like a scalded cat, slamming to attention and saluting. "Captain, Ma'am!"

Grinning she waved him back to his seat. "You're supposed to be struggling with the finer points of star navigation," she chastised. "Not teaching my Pilot about Rock and Roll."

"Permission to speak in my defence, Ma'am?" He responded quickly.

"You don't have to gain permission to defend yourself, Colonel. This isn't a trial!" The Captain claimed, shaking her head in surprise.

"Don't I?" He sounded amazed, then recovered slightly. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"And stop apologising!"

"Ma'am!"

She shook her head in disbelief again, he was so strictly formal that he could make Seven of Nine look human at times.

"Permission to report that my studies for this morning have been completed, Ma'am. I was unable to contact Miss Nine for clarification, so I approached Lieutenant Paris for additional guidance, Ma'am," he explained formally. "I formally apologise if my action was incorrect."

She struggled not to laugh at his incongruous seriousness, so badly out of place it seemed, but so authentically 'Him'.

"I'm afraid Seven will not be able to guide you for a while," she explained, recovering. "I think I will have to put you with Ensign Kim for a couple of weeks."

He looked puzzled. "Not done something wrong have I, Ma'am?" He quizzed. "I thought I had been doing rather well recently?"

"No you haven't and yes you are doing very well," she assured him. "But she has been restricted to quarters after an argument with B'Elanna Torres."

"Very good, Ma'am," he didn't seem tremendously impressed.

"I have been assigned to your continued education!" Ensign Harry Kim brightly announced to the Colonel the following morning in Astrometrics.

The Colonel glared at him over the supercilious manner but said nothing. He did not want educating, he preferred to learn.

"I've checked Seven's logs and I think I've worked out how far she has got and we can pick it up from there," Kim continued, his enthusiasm unfettered by the Colonels hostile stare.

"Perhaps we ought to start with a refresher? Name two classic types of nebula?" He bubbled on.

Reluctantly the Colonel answered him. "Protonic, photonic and nucleonic. Is this bubbling enthusiasm for education necessary please, Ensign?"

"We have to teach you somehow!" Kim exclaimed in surprise.

"I suppose we must," he responded cautiously. This was going to be hard work, he never had taken to gentle and cheerful teachers.

They were both exhausted by the end of the session. Kim was trying to be a caring and understanding teacher, quick to help his struggling pupil. The Colonel, for his part, was a slow and recalcitrant pupil, only he wasn't trying to be.

"May I offer you a mug of tea?" The Colonel offered when they had finished, trying to be sociable. In truth he could feel something of a dislike for the young Ensign building, he didn't want that, hence the invitation, perhaps he could gently get him to amend his approach.

Kim refused and hurried off on his own.

Shrugging the Colonel followed him at a steady quick march heading for the bowels of the ship. He was stopped from entering Seven of Nine's quarters by a security guard.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. Seven of Nine is restricted to quarters, Captains orders," he explained nervously.

"Not a severe punishment, I would have thought," the Colonel commented. "Miss Nine is not a great socialist. Still as you insist." He turned and disappeared back up the corridor, to the obvious relief of the guard.

"It's not as if he is stupid!" Harry Kim complained to Tom Paris at their regular lunch time meeting. "But he struggles with the simplest concepts. I don't know how Seven gets to him!"

"He even uses a pen and paper," he added as if it was the most horrendous crime imaginable.

"Well it could be she approaches him differently," Tom pointed out. "Are you trying to teach him like old Crabtree or like Williams?" He suggested in a rare flash of inspiration, remembering the two extremes of the instructors at the Academy, one the beacon of light and understanding, the other the devil incarnate.

"Crabtree of course, nobody ever learned anything from Williams," protested Kim.

"You are forgetting that the Colonel has never been taught like a human being, Harry," Tom Paris interrupted. "It was still corporal punishment and blackboards when he was taught, I doubt he likes to be reminded about that or that we do it differently now."

"How else is there?"

"Whatever there is Seven has found the answer, she is obviously doing something you aren't," Tom suggested unhelpfully. 

"I've got to take B'Elanna's dinner," he claimed getting up.

B'Elanna was fretting tremendously, she did not like being held in enclosed spaces, it held unhappy memories of her father. She desperately wanted to escape and almost mugged Tom Paris as he came through the door bearing her meal.

"One bowl of Neelix's finest slop," Paris prescribed, then added under his voice. "It tastes as bad as it looks, it was lunch today."

"Let me guess, the coupling is still out," she claimed.

He nodded his affirmation. "Would you like me to keep you company or should I leave you with it?"

"If you stay I may tip it over you," she snapped the warning then sagged into a chair to examine the meal presented to her.

"It is all Seven's fault. She rounded off a really lousy day interfering like that. Then Captain Star Fleet puts me on ice for it, because I attacked her favourite Borg," she complained bitterly.

"You aren't supposed to attack people, this is a Federation Ship!" Paris hazarded carefully.

"What was I supposed to do?" Torres protested hotly. "She doesn't understand simple phrases like 'You are in the way', or 'It is not your problem'."

"It's not as though Janeway has given her much of a punishment. Two weeks solitary doesn't mean much to her!"

This was a statement that was not strictly true of Seven of Nine. She was feeling the enforced solitude deeply. Without the constant murmuring of the Collective behind her ears Voyager was a very lonely and solitary place for an ex-borg. She used the alcove as much to prevent herself thinking about her solitude as to avoid the crew. Her opinion of them was that they had too many faults to be an efficient collective, but she still needed to hear the constant babble of banter, as pointless as it was, to prevent herself from feeling anymore alone.

The alcove was the first thing she tried to avoid the oppressive solitude getting to her, but it quietly and firmly ejected her twelve hours later and refused to embrace her again until the next regeneration was required. She realised in horror that would be at least another twelve hours.

She turned to the computer terminal in the bay to try and find something to occupy her mind for the time she had to endure being awake. Again her access codes excluded her from anything but the most trivial. She wondered if she could break into the system, so that she could continue with her Astrometrics work, but then realised that it would be detected and she would probably lose what little access she had left.

Captain Janeway, she realised, had effectively shut her away to endure the punishment.

She spent the next few hours cataloguing the contents of the Cargo Bay, then dejectedly returned to the console. She still had access to some parts of the system and she resolved to investigate those more thoroughly. One part was her personal logs, she ignored them for the time being on the grounds she knew what she had put there. Instead she investigated her collections of knowledge on the subjects that had interested her during her tenure with Voyager, starting to read at random and cataloguing what she found.

Her concentration was broken by a small sound from behind a storage bin in a far corner. Cautiously she approached the offending item. Not afraid, she knew exactly what was in the bay with her, simply curious. What she found was a small canvas kit bag. She stared at it uncertainly. It hadn't been there when she had catalogued the hold she knew, she had walked this way.

She picked it up and returned to her alcove to investigate. It contained a small pack of foodstuff a bottle of what she assumed was drink and a couple of notebooks. The last item gave a clue as to the mysterious bags owner. There was only one person aboard the ship who used pen and paper regularly, Lieutenant Colonel Samuels.

Curiously she looked around for him, but he wasn't there. It was baffling, why would he drop a bag containing his workbooks into the hold without joining them, it defied logic and kept her pondering in fascination for several more minutes. Finally she rose and moved towards a panel and lifted the latches to find the Colonel squatting in the access way.

"Thank you!" He stated simply as he crawled out of the small opening. "Those screws were taking simply ages." He handed her a small handful of panel fastenings.

"Why are you here?" She demanded coldly. "I am in solitary confinement."

"I know," he said simply. "Where did you hide my bag?"

"It is infront of my alcove," she admitted in confusion at his simple acceptance of the fact. "You are in violation of orders being in my company, you will suffer similar punishment if found."

"Only if you tell somebody, or give somebody reason to enter" he pointed out. "I deactivated the alarms on the hatches and as for the detector." He produced a can from his pocket and proceeded to climb up a stack of containers to reach a small box on the ceiling. Once there he smeared a small blob of goo across its face and climbed down.

"Voila! It wouldn't know the difference between one or a hundred!"

"You have know damaged the ships internal security system, the punishment for that is," Seven began.

"Three years imprisonment, unlikely," he breezed marching towards the Borg alcove. Seven of Nine followed, now thoroughly confused by the tall mans strange behaviour.

"State your intentions?" She demanded again, her patience running out.

"Didn't I say? Dreadfully sorry!" He exclaimed. "I thought I would come and ask some questions about the lessons I had today. Ensign Kim is too intent on educating me rather than letting me learn. I barely understood a word he said. I need to understand the tosh he gave me before I face it again tomorrow!"

"You have risked imprisonment to ask for an explanation for a lesson?" Her smooth face puckered into abstract amazement.

"I thought you might like a little company as well," he admitted. "I would rather hang somebody than give that sentence."

"You believe the sentence is wrong?" She queried again trying to make sense of the discussion.

"Not the one I would chose," he corrected her. "The one I used at home was to put the two protagonists in a boxing ring and let them slug it out, at least it provided entertainment for everybody else. The Captain made her choice to suit her wisdom's." 

"Besides," he added. "Lieutenant Paris was allowed to take Lieutenant Torres her dinner and keep her company until she threw him out. As you don't eat, you weren't subject to the culinary torture Neelix offered and weren't given the option of somebody to moan at."

"Yet you have brought food," she pointed out.

"Nothing grand," he excused quickly. "A bottle of cordial, plain biscuits and some of that cheese Neelix is so proud of but nobody seems to like. Tastes like Wensleydale to me, perfectly acceptable."

"I also know that the one thing you are really terrified of is being alone," he added in a more reflective voice. "You need your fix of banal banter as much as, possibly even more than, the rest of us. It's just that you don't feel able to take part."

"The lack of distraction has been beneficial," she opined stoutly.

His raised his eyebrow at her in mock salute. "I'll go if I was wrong and you would prefer?" He offered.

She shook her head hurriedly. "You have some questions you wish answered?"

They sat together for the best part of two hours as they puzzled over the Colonel's spidery notes.

"Your company was appreciated," Seven assured him as he slipped back into the trunking he had entered by.

"It won't make the rest anymore bearable," he commented. "But I will try to visit tomorrow," he promised with a wink.

Captain Janeway was not a happy Captain the following morning. Despite Engineerings best efforts they had still not managed to get the power coupling working reliably enough to replicate a replacement. It meant she was the Captain of a vessel that wouldn't go anywhere and things were bleak. It was a problem that she put to her team in the daily meeting. In desperation she had brought Seven of Nine and B'Elanna up from their imprisonment, needing their wisdom, they emerged from their confinement looking wild eyed, pensive and studiously ignored each other. As a final act she had invited the Colonel to attend. She did not expect solutions from him but perhaps he might understand the seriousness of their plight.

"The lining is badly scored," Vorick claimed in his briefing. "There is no smooth path to prevent an earth leakage and a trip feedback."

"How much power can we get through it?" Chakotay asked.

"Approximately 15%. Enough to maintain ships systems," the Vulcan engineer admitted. "Attempting to transmit additional power causes a circuit trip."

"If we shut down systems would there be enough to run the replicator?"

"At reduced effectiveness," he responded. "We would be reduced to emergency life support only and we will require twenty days. Emergency power levels will be dangerously low on completion."

The Colonel had been listening to the argument rage around him. Finally he cleared his throat. 

"Permission to speak, Ma'am?" He requested.

She looked at him sharply, she hadn't expected him to get involved in the discussion.

"Carry on," she granted.

"If I'm speaking out of turn, then please forgive me," he began. "I do not know what this part looks like. But is it the lining that is important or the physical shape?"

"It is the surface of the lining," Vorick explained patiently. "The lining forms a tube, that forms a path for plasma. The surface must be smooth, any irregularity causes a feed back which causes the converter to trip out given sufficient parameters."

"Is this rough surface on the inside or the outside. Is the material hard? Does it even have to be this Tri-whatever-it-is compound for the time needed to replicate a replacement?" The Colonel asked.

"What are you aiming at, Colonel?" Captain Janeway demanded. "This is an advanced Star Ship, we can't simply knock up a basic component from anything we want!"

"Forgive me, Ma'am," He apologised. "But we do have a part that has failed that you need to replace before it packs up all together. I have had some experience working metals and I was wondering if it would be possible to burnish the gouges you have, or possibly even reline it, just enough to get it operational?"

"It is not possible," she exclaimed. "The finish needs to be a near mirror!"

"It may also be possible to fabricate a replacement if we can locate suitable raw materials," Seven of Nine interrupted calmly. "The Trilite that the lining is produced from does not naturally occur, however there is a naturally occurring substance that may perform similarly. It is used by species 2467 in a similar configuration, they describe it as Kadhoz."

"A coupling could be roughed out and the replicator could finish it off if we could find something suitable," B'Elanna inserted eager for the chance to be allowed from her cell. "We could reduce replication time to less than a couple of hours."

"I thought these whizzy replicators can reproduce anything!" The Colonel muttered in surprise.

"Only if we have the raw materials," Kim explained in his ear. "But we don't."

"What do you need?" The Captain sighed in resignation. "And where can we get the natural equivalent?"

"Seven of Nine to the Captain. Report to Astrometrics!" Seven of Nine's voice echoed through the corridors five hours later.

"I have found a planet that has the geological features that suggest the possibility of Kadhoz," Seven of Nine claimed calmly as the Captain barrelled into Astrometrics, Chakotay hard on her heels.

Without a seconds thought the Captain assembled the rest of her staff officers.

"The geological structure is specific, the data required was only interpreted by the computer in the last hour. I have since attempted to tune the sensors to detect the presence of the mineral itself," Seven of Nine continued to explain. "It is present, but there are complications that may be impossible to circumvent."

"Go on!" Captain Janeway prompted uneasily.

"The planet is a light year away, an away team can only reach it by shuttle, the round trip will take upto five days," she stated. "The mineral only occurs deep below ground, but it is sometimes pushed into the cave systems that are also form part of the geological infrastructure by volcanic eruptions. Without the ships phasors it is impossible to recover using a transporter from it's native location. The planet also contains a primitive life form, it may be dangerous for the Away Team to land."

Captain Janeway sighed. The decision was not going to be easy.

"How soon before we have no alternative except to turn power off and concentrate on the replicator?" She demanded of B'Elanna.

B'Elanna shrugged. "The output is stable, but if it begins to fluctuate then we will have a problem. Perhaps a week, possibly ten days, I'm trying to charge some spare power cells from Cargo Bay 1." 

"One solution will leave us on Emergency Power until the power banks are virtually drained, the power loss may be so bad that we cannot restart the engines. The other is to send an Away Team to a primitive planet where they might find a material that might allow us to physically make a replacement coupling. I don't like either, they could both leave us dead in space. Is there another option?" The Captain mused aloud.

"The extra time would give us the chance to ensure the Emergency Power systems are topped up and even charge a few power cells from the Cargo Bay, before switching everything off," Torres prompted.

The Captain looked around the room and came to a decision. "B'Elanna, take Seven of Nine and see if you can find some of this Kadhoz material. Vorik reduce power to all but essential services, start running up the replicator on reduced power, we might not be able to run it properly but we can start the process," she commanded. 

"Permission to go along, Ma'am?" The Colonel immediately volunteered.

"I may be of more assistance to the Away Team. I can handle explosives, even done some mining in my career. Coal, I admit, but it may be of help. Plus they will almost certainly need my more attributed skills," he explained to the puzzled looks. "Besides I'm as useful here as the proverbial chocolate tea pot!"

"We aren't going to war," she pointed out, but grateful for his offer. "Mr Kim, you had better go as well, as commander. We can afford seven days."

"Before we disappear into the ether, could I put upon you to do a lap of Voyager please, Ensign?" The Colonel begged as the shuttle banked away from Voyager.

"I suppose so, why?" Kim demanded uncertainly.

"I have never actually seen the outside of the tub that is now my home. I'd like to know what it actually looks like!" He explained, blushing slightly.

"You've seen pictures," Kim protested.

"I have seen a lot of pictures," the Colonel confessed. "But the only ones I believe are the ones I've taken. You would be amazed at how well the camera lies."

"Do it Harry," B'Elanna urged cheerfully. "It will only take a couple of seconds." 

"You had better take my place, Colonel," she grinned. "You'll get a better view. I'll point the features out for you."

"Much obliged Lieutenant," he thanked her as she gave up her seat to him.

Begrudgingly Kim performed a quick circuit of the ship, with the Colonel craning forward trying to view as much of Voyager as possible, whilst Torres leaned over his shoulder and pointed out parts of the ship. Finally he turned away looking slightly green. The feeling of what was to him a huge ship, hanging in nothingness, had railed against his mind.

"Thank you for your indulgence," he managed, pulling himself out of the chair unsteadily. "But I think the spectacle might have done more harm than good. Excuse me!" He darted for the head swallowing hard.

He emerged to find Torres and Kim grinning openly at him and Seven regarding him coldly.

"Not much of a spaceman am I," he grinned sheepishly. "Sea Sick the first time I see space."

"We've all suffered from it," B'Elanna consoled him. "It improves."

"So kind," he sighed wistfully, settling back onto a jump seat. He kept a keen eye open through the view ports, but finding nothing happening he nodded off to sleep.

"Commencing Magnetronic scans," Seven declared two days later as the shuttle entered orbit over a small yellow planet. "You should maintain an altitude of 150 kilometres and velocity of not more than 10,000 kilometres per hour, to allow an acceptable degree of accuracy."

"Okay Seven," Kim responded cheerfully, relieved that events were happening and people were talking again. 

The previous two days of the flight had been trying. B'Elanna was obviously avoiding talking to Seven, Seven was characteristically tight-lipped with everybody, especially it seemed the Colonel. He could think of no reason for Seven's attitude to her pupil.

It had seemed that the only people able to talk freely to each other was the Colonel and himself and he wasn't entirely sure about the Colonel either. He had tried to continue the Colonels education for something to do, but quickly tailed of at Seven of Nines stern gaze and the Colonels obvious unwillingness. That error out the way he had encouraged the Colonel to talk about his life as a soldier. He found that the tall soldier was an entertaining story teller, full of wit and humour as he recounted some of what he suspected were less harrowing events in his career. But, he noticed, all the time he was talking he was nervously cleaning and recleaning his weapons.

The Colonel still preferred to carry his old and battered projectile weapons to the lighter and generally more powerful phasor rifle. It had been something Tuvok had challenged him over. The Colonel in turn had challenged him to prove the superiority in a target shoot out. The result had been close upto a simulated range of 50 metres, Tuvok coming out slightly on top, but after that the Colonel's rifle had proved to be quicker and more accurate as the range increased and atmospheric effects started to take effect upon the phasor beam. He had finally put the contest out of reach of any hand held phasor when he had picked up his snipers rifle, fitted a scope to the top and proceeded to place three out of five rounds in quick succession into a target 300mm diameter at a range of nearly 3,000 metres. Nobody had felt upto challenging the validity of the demonstration, especially after what they had witnessed with the Vordun.

Three orbits of the planet brought an exclamation from Seven. "I have detected a small quantity of Kadhoz near the surface. Co-ordinates 253.89. It appears to be approachable via a catacomb."

"Natives?" The Colonel asked quietly.

"There are three settlements within 50 kilometres," she responded after a quick recalibration of sensors.

The Colonel quickly worked out some mathematics in his head. "About six hours march," he mused. "Quite close if we're spotted."

"There is no other outcrop as convenient," Seven responded bluntly.

"We'll have to risk getting in and out before they see us, it will be dark so they may be asleep. Guide us as close as you can, Seven," Kim urged. 

"Or watching for an attack from next door," the Colonel muttered quietly, cocking his rifle as the shuttle descended.

He was out of the shuttle and scanning the horizon through his rifles night scope, before the door had finished opening. Satisfied there was no immediate danger he stood up again and squinted in the direction Seven indicated for the native settlements, then took a closer interest in their surrounds.

The shuttle had been brought down on a small meadow of hip high yellow-green grass, in the middle distance at about 400 yards there was a ring of off-white rocks, whilst to the north and slightly over a three miles away stood a low cliff. It was there Seven confidently expected to find a way into the catacombs containing the precious Kadhoz. From there he started a closer examination of the ground, which appeared to be black sandy and damp, he felt it with his hand, it left an oily residue that he wiped of on his trousers absentmindedly as he continued to circle the shuttle.

"What is he upto?" Kim demanded as they watched him move quietly around them.

There was no reply from the others, they were as baffled by the Colonel's actions as he was.

The question was answered by the Colonel as he returned. "The good news is there is nobody with 400 yards and there is real food to be had," he claimed cheerfully.

"We could have told you that, and without the aimless running around." Kim pointed out impatiently.

"Perhaps you could," the Colonel admitted grudgingly. 

He looked at the hand that he had used to feel the ground. It still felt damp, curiously he smelt it. "The bad news is that the soil is high with what smells like sulphurous oil and the rocks look as though they may be bird shit," he said. "Potassium Nitrate for my more learned friends. But I'm sure your tri-corders have told you that as well?"

"So?" Kim demanded. They hadn't checked the constituents of the ground.

The Colonel quietly placed a small pile of the local earth and white stone flecks on the shuttles boarding ramp and fired it with a splint. It burnt with a reddish flame, popping and spitting as it did so.

"So this place is a bomb!" The Colonel explained slowly, nodding at the primitive demonstration. "I just thought I'd point it out. Before you start playing with explosives and hot things."

"We should continue with the purpose of our mission," Seven pointed out quickly. "The rock strata is different by the cliffs, it will be safer."

Quickly they set off, Kim confidently leading the way, using his tricorder to scan the route ahead for awaiting primitives waiting to ambush them. The Colonel followed the two women, amiably bearing the majority of the Away Teams equipment. Despite the confidence the others showed in the electronic aides they carried, he couldn't share it, preferring his own senses, honed as they were by years of experience in action. At the moment they were content, the soil was drying out and that magic sixth sense of self preservation gained by so many combat soldiers that had survived years of combat was calm. He had been slightly put out by the dismissive attitude of Ensign Kim to his observations, then buoyed up considerably at the look of shock that had appeared on his face when he had pointed out the potential dangers of the shuttles location.

It was a victorious Kim that looked around as they reached the cliffs safely. "Not a single problem," he announced happily, looking accusingly at the Colonel.

"No there wasn't," he answered simply, then grinned evilly. "I'd say there hasn't been anybody here for a few days at least!"

"What makes you say that?" He asked defensively.

The Colonel silently pointed to a long scuff mark in the soil. "Somebody has pulled something large and very heavy through here. As we can't find or detect them it must have been a few days ago."

"Will you two men stop the hormones and stop bitching." B'Elanna demanded, tired of the power play between the two men.

The Colonel turned towards here as if to argue, but caught himself. Instead he bowed deeply to her. "My apologies, Ma'am," he intoned solemnly.

She laughed suddenly at the solemn and slightly ashamed look. "They say we are bad, Seven!" It was the first time she had spoken to Seven directly since the Captain had passed sentence.

He grinned at her sheepishly. "I've not tried to hit him yet though," he pointed out mildly. "And if Ensign Kim is lucky I won't feel the desire to," he winked at her.

Kim caught an implied threat and in no doubt as to the probable result of such an altercation, felt an urgent need to smooth the waters between them.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," he said quickly. "I've been trying to impress you haven't I? And not doing it very well?"

"You are better able to cope than me in many things, Ensign. Like space," the Colonel suggested with a grin. "But down here on the ground, you are a beginner. Let me teach you how you don't need your little electric boxes to do the thinking."

"What does Kadhoz look like please, Miss Nine?" He asked, spotting another small and unseen detail. "Not a smooth pale green, by any chance?"

"I have never seen the material," she answered honestly. "I am only aware of the unique properties. Your purpose for the question?"

The Colonel knelt down and picked up some small chips of rock from the floor, tested their weight and handed them to her. "Because I'm wondering why somebody has taken a lot of trouble to dig up a single large lump of rock and drag it away," he said quietly. "There must have been a purpose and it can't be for building, or there would be any number of people knocking lumps out of the cliff. It is as you would say 'inefficient'."

Uncertainly she examined the chips of rock with her tricorder, then looked up. "The stone is Kadhoz," she exclaimed. "How did you know?"

"I didn't," he confessed. "I don't even know for certain that the chips came off what they were dragging. Only that they don't belong just here. Shall we follow the tracks and see where they go?"

This time they followed the Colonel as he followed the track for another 300 metres and around a shoulder in the cliff into a small gully, there he stopped as the track disappeared under an overhang. Two small spoil heaps sat either side of the track and he made a quick investigation of those.

"How much do we need?" He asked, picking out some larger lumps of the green Kadhoz.

"To fabricate one it will have to be at least 500mm long and about 200mm diameter," said B'Elanna.

He looked at the lumps he had picked up and threw them down in disgust. "There was me hoping for a gentle ramble to pick up a pebble. You realise a lump like that is going to weigh nearly 200lbs?"

"We will transport it when it has been extracted," Seven dismissed the problem coldly, moving towards the cave intent on carrying out exploration.

"You had better stay here, Colonel and keep watch," Kim commanded, trying to put authority into his voice after his earlier chastisement.

The Colonel nodded. "Sir!" Snapping the Ensign a salute he turned on his heel and made his way back to the corner of the gully. 

Kim watched him go until he faded from sight in the gathering twilight. "I thought he would argue," he commented aloud.

"You gave him an order, he will comply efficiently to orders without question," Seven pointed out without turning and headed for the cave that she could just make out in the rock face. "It is one of the similarities between the Borg and his army."

Shrugging the other two followed her silently into the cave.

The Colonel reaching the corner turned and scrambled up the side of the cliff until he reached a ledge some twenty feet above the floor. There he settled down, rifle on his knees and made himself as comfortable as possible. He looked up into the night sky, it was clear and cloudless, that would help, the few stars would offer some visibility, but without a moon it would be difficult to see anything moving.

Presently he pulled a small package from his webbing and nibbled on the contents of the ration pack it held and sipped water from a hip flask.

It was fifteen minutes later that a small noise from above him made him look upwards. It was only the small noise of pebbles knocking into each other, but it was enough for the hair on the back of his neck to prickle. Carefully and without making any noise he started to move towards it.

Seven of Nine led the others at a crisp pace down the passage they found at the back of the cave. One hand showing a powerful torch light ahead of them, in the other she carried her tricorder. The latter she referred to frequently as they walked. The passageway was heading downwards at a steep rate, the floor smooth and slightly slippery. It was however high and broad enough for them not to need to stoop. 

Kim guessed that they had travelled nearly two kilometres before she finally stopped. "We are at the nearest source of Kadhoz," she said simply and shone the torch on a rocky outcrop. 

It positively glowed in the light of their powerful torch beams and continued to glow as they removed the beams from it. It was a feature that prompted Seven of Nine to examine it closer, repeatedly recalibrating and adjusting her tricorder, trying to make sense of the readings.

"What's wrong, Seven?" B'Elanna asked quickly, sensing something wrong.

"The readings are illogical," Seven responded, a worried frown darkening her smooth face. "The rock is absorbing power then gives it off again at a slower rate. They are not the properties accredited to the mineral in the Borg databanks."

"The wrong rock!" Kim moaned in exasperation.

"The rock is correct, Ensign," Seven responded uncertainly. "The properties displayed are not as expected."

Curiously she reached out and touched it. 

There was a scream of "Seven!" The next thing she was aware of was B'Elanna kneeling beside her with a medical tricorder, looking concerned and the rocky out crop three metres away from her.

"Seven, are you okay?" She was saying.

Weakly she nodded her head. "What happened?" she mumbled numbly.

"When you touched the rock it arced through you body," B'Elanna explained hurriedly. "Don't move until I've finished with this."

"I think we now know how it works," she added confidently. "If there is a power source it will absorb energy until there is a path for it to travel through then it lets go. You lit up like a christmas tree, lucky there wasn't more in the rock, it could have killed you."

"I was damaged?" Seven of Nine asked weakly, struggling to sit up.

"A bit singed but nothing serious."

"Where is Ensign Kim?" she asked looking around.

"Gone to get the charges," B'Elanna sighed, sitting beside the blonde. "We can't use phasors to cut it."

The silence between them deepened as they sat, each to their own thoughts.

After twenty minutes patient and careful climbing, Colonel Samuels breasted the cliff. Sensing nothing he rested for a moment before slowly raising himself to look around.

He could see nothing and was about to start the long climb down when he heard the chink of stone again. Aroused he moved towards the sound, keeping low and in the deepest shadows, relying on his dark uniform to keep him hidden in the night. A few minutes brought him to the top of another ridge of rock and he peered over the top. 

A party of fifteen big humanoids, apparently clad in skins, was working silently. They appeared to move with a stoop, but were clearly over six feet tall and they were building an immense cairn. Puzzled he inspected the construction using the night sight from his rifle. Then he caught his breath as he spotted a series of long poles jutting from the base. It wasn't a cairn! He suddenly realised. They were planning to close the mouth of the cave with a landslide!

The realisation stopped him short as he tried to decide what to do. To start shooting would undoubtedly bring more of the strange beings into sight, he could hear others moving, and might lead them to pre-emptively push their landslide over the edge. In the dark he checked the glowing hands of his wristwatch, another old fashioned symptom of his life he thought in amusement. The landing party had been gone for nearly an hour. They could be close to returning and the workers didn't appear to be eager to deposit their load.

Slowly he backed away and tried the communicator, without success. He would have to get the creatures to leave their ambush, he decided and started to move again.

"Kim to the Colonel, where are you?" His communicator suddenly bursting into life made him curse and dive into cover again.

"If you are out, run!" He hissed, ignoring protocols. "If not, don't move until I say."

"I'm in the middle of the gully, Seven and B'Elanna are still in the cave. What is happening?" 

The Colonel cursed silently.

"We have unfriendly company," he replied quietly. "Very slowly move into the shadows, they haven't spotted you yet!"

A shout nearby proved his statement wrong.

"Correction, run like buggery," he hissed leaping from his hiding place and bringing his rifle up.

In the sights he saw two creatures pulling on the poles that held the slide. He fired twice, seeing one drop and the other spring away hurt. Again he targeted another native as it looked on in stunned amazement at its fallen compatriot. He too fell screaming, but the Colonel had been spotted and more creatures were heading towards him from all directions.

He charged towards the cairn, firing at the two creatures nearest and spotting another three also heading for the levers that held the slide in check.

"I'm being attacked!" Kim's voice screamed at him from the communicator.

"So am I," the Colonel spat firing again. Then he groaned as the creature he had shot fell onto a lever. There was a deeper groan from the pile as it started to give way. Desperately he grabbed at another lever, trying to prevent the whole slide going, knowing it was a futile gesture even as he did so.

The world went black as he felt himself slipping.

Deep in the cave they heard the distant rumble of thunder. The two women sprang to their feet and looked at each other in alarm.

"What in hell is going on?" B'Elanna exclaimed. 

"Come on!" She ran up the passage, Seven of Nine following closely on her heels.

They came to a dead halt as they found the end of the tunnel blocked.

"What has happened?" B'Elanna demanded uselessly. What had happened was obvious, the entrance to the cave had been buried under rock.

Seven of Nine found no requirement to state the obvious but reached for her tricorder. "Much of the debris is loose," she pointed out. "Perhaps we can remove sufficient to escape."

Without waiting to see if B'Elanna Torres followed her example she started to roll debris from the pile in front. Seeing Seven working so industriously B'Elanna moved up beside her and started to work as well.

They worked solidly for three hours and in silence, before the strain started to tell and they sank to the ground exhausted.

"I'm sorry for the incident the other day," B'Elanna said quietly. Seeking to start a conversation to break the strained silence. "But you can be very annoying."

"Your apology is acceptable," Seven acquiesced. "However your attempts to get the Power Coupling working effectively were inefficiently directed. The unit was not repairable."

"I know and I knew it then. It's just that there was nothing else available. Sometimes you have to make the best use of what you have," B'Elanna admitted ruefully.

"That is a statement that the Colonel puts into practice on a practical level. He is proving extremely adaptable," Seven of Nine commented.

She was impressed, B'Elanna realised in surprise.

"He isn't as unintelligent as people think he is, is he?"

"He is not unintelligent," Seven agreed. "He is learning about the ship and it's functions, but he finds them difficult to comprehend. His knowledge of our immediate surrounds is superior to our own, he identified more features of this planet than the tricorder." 

"Nor has he demonstrated violent intent to members of the crew," Seven volunteered. "Many of the crew thought he might prove dangerous."

"There was Vordun," B'Elanna pointed out.

"His response was measured against the requirements of the situation. I have discovered that much of his life has been involved in similar actions, protection of the weak."

"You've found out a lot about him and his past?" B'Elanna accused lightly. This was proving to be an interesting discussion.

"It has developed from our 'Confessional', he sometimes tells me about events in his life that parallel my actions as a Borg."

"What exactly do you do in those 'Confessionals'?" B'Elanna asked in interest. Nobody, she knew, had ever wrung anything out of the Colonel, not even the Captain who had practically demanded to know.

"He helps me understand and accept the difference between being a Borg and a human. Sometimes he holds my hand because he thinks I am feeling distress," Seven of Nine admitted. "The interaction is pleasant and helpful."

"He is a handsome man," B'Elanna commented after a few more minutes of silence.

"Who is?" Seven of Nine asked in puzzlement.

"The Colonel."

"I hadn't noticed," Seven claimed calmly.

"You've noticed," B'Elanna asserted. "You keep watching him and trying not to look as though you are."

"He is my student, his welfare aboard Voyager is of immediate concern to me," Seven protested on the defensive.

"I suppose it is," B'Elanna admitted. 

"I think you are falling in love!" She teased suddenly. 

"I have no romantic intentions," Seven responded sharply. "I find him interesting."

"I bet your little Borg heart beats faster when you look forward to those 'Confessionals' and him taking hold of your hand though?" B'Elanna pressed.

"His approach to my needs has proved unique and of benefit," Seven replied hurriedly. "This conversation should cease. We should continue to excavate the landslide."

"I wish he was here!" B'Elanna moaned getting to her feet again. "He would be of great help getting this lot out of the way!"

"His physical presence here would be of benefit," Seven of Nine agreed readily.

The Colonel stirred slowly with the dawning of a new day, feeling battered, bruised, sore and very uncomfortable. He felt as if he was being hung by his arms. A situation he found was ostensibly correct as he started to look around him. His wrists were firmly tied to a horizontal pole, balanced between two vertical poles, though now he was conscious he was able to stand and take his weight off the lashings. He did so and gently wriggled his hands trying to bring life back to them. 

Beside him stood Ensign Kim, similarly tied but looking in much better condition. They were being regarded by a skin covered child. He smiled at it and it screamed and ran off.

"Good Morning, Ensign. Sleep well?" He asked mildly, to receive an accusing glare from Ensign Kim.

"What happened?" He demanded in a scared voice.

"I think the natives decided to close their mine," the Colonel answered simply. "I think our appearance pre-empted the closure."

"But they weren't there when we entered!" Kim protested. "You can't have been keeping a good look out!"

The Colonel sighed deeply. "The landslide they set up was there before we were. I think they arrived to simply finish it off. That is why I was on top of the cliff because I heard them arriving."

"We do have other problems that are more pressing than recriminations though."

"What about Seven and B'Elanna? What are they intending to do to us?" There was panic starting to show in the high pitched tone.

"If they were in the cave then they are probably a lot safer than we are, but I doubt they will be coming to our rescue any moment. As for our fate, keep an eye open for iron pots," the Colonel kept up with cheerful banter as he continued to inspect the surrounds. They appeared to be on the edge of a temporary campsite, but apart from the child that had run off there appeared to be nobody else around.

"You think they are cannibals?" Kim screamed.

"Keep your head please, Ensign, before I kick you. And keep quiet," the Colonel hissed. 

Kim glared at him in silence.

"I think it might be a good idea to get out of here, don't you? Before they decide it's time for dinner?" The Colonel continued quietly. "I don't suppose you are into gymnastics?"

Curiously Kim shook his head in the negative.

"That is a pity, it might have been a little easier if one of us was," the Colonel sighed. "Do you think we can swing against the uprights?"

"To what end?" Kim demanded in surprise.

"So that we can break something," the Colonel announced, wrapping his hands around the horizontal bar and lifting himself clear of the ground, simultaneously setting up a rocking motion. The frame creaked ominously.

"Your assistance would be appreciated, Ensign," The Colonel remarked in satisfaction as he felt the pole start to twist.

Groaning loudly Kim followed the tall soldiers lead and started to swing heavily. The cross beam started to twist.

"Keep going!" The Colonel gasped, changing his swing so that now his boots were striking the nearest upright. It too shuddered, but he saw the horizontal pole move in its lashings. He kicked out again then again as Kim kept up swinging back and forwards. 

Finally with a squeak the horizontal came free of the vertical and they crashed to the ground, on their backs, stunned. They both groaned loudly as they sat up and glanced around.

"I think my pocket knife is still in my pocket," the Colonel commented quietly. "If you would be so kind as to co-operate, we might not need to be tied together when we run?"

Helping each other as much as they could and controlling the pole they were attached to, the Colonel managed to dig in his pocket, retrieved his clasp knife and extract the blade. Painstakingly he cut through the bond that held his wrist, before making quicker work of the other hand, then Kims bonds.

"As there doesn't appear to be anybody about. I'm going to have a look in the camp," the Colonel announced, standing up and grimacing. A hand trailed to his chest and felt it carefully.

Kim noticed the unconscious action. "You're hurt? We should return to the shuttle for medical supplies."

"And possibly run into those chaps again. I think I'd rather get some idea as to where they went first," the Colonel announced and set off.

He was back fifteen minutes later. "Come on," he hissed. "They have all gone off towards the shuttle and the kid has followed them. We need the pole!"

"What for?" Kim complained getting up.

"They have a nice big bit of that Kadhoz we came for, nicely cut up. I think they use it for making a totem of some sort."

"We're going to steal it?" Kim protested.

"Steal is a strong word, Ensign," the Colonel said reproachfully. "I think I'd prefer the term 'Imposing a fine'. It's not as if they can't get some more!" 

"Come on it will need both of us!" He added slapping the younger man on the back.

Uncertain he liked the Colonel quite so jovial in the circumstances, Kim followed him carrying the pole.

The Colonel was right the settlement was empty, there was also a block of the magical Kadhoz only slightly larger than B'Elanna had stipulated. The Colonel was bending over it, threading a long length of rope through a hole that had been bored through the centre.

"Rather good of them to start work for us, don't you think, Ensign?" He quipped. "It will also make it easier to carry, you can pass the pole through the centre. The rope will stop it slipping."

Quickly Kim stooped to comply to the Colonel's command. "If they are heading for the shuttle where do we go?" He asked.

"I think the cave will do for the time being. Then we can get Lieutenant Torres and Miss Nine out, they must be getting a little bored by now," the Colonel replied easily.

"Won't the savages go there as well?" He asked turning to the Colonel. 

"Undoubtedly they will, but not before the child has brought them back here," he answered busily stuffing a leather bag with the black sand and white stone chips.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

"We are going to need explosives to shift the rock fall, but not I suspect something as powerful as the charges you brought; if they are still there," the Colonel explained as he worked. "These bags are almost gas tight, and when you burn nitrates they tend to explode. If this dirt is what I think it is we will get quite a good bang that can move big rocks."

"At least I hope it will," he added with a frown. "I think we might need those water bags as well," he pointed at several more skins. "Are we ready?"

Kim nodded in bemusement. 

"You lead, quick march, Ensign," The Colonel ordered, picking up one end of the pole.

Kim picked up the second end and they trotted out of the camp with the heavy load.

Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Torres were not as the Colonel had predicted bored, they had passed through that, they were dispirited, physically exhausted and defeated. Silently they sank to the floor, each getting as close to the other as they could, desperate to fight off the feelings of despair that they were feeling.

"You don't like the idea of dying alone either, huh!" B'Elanna commented gently, as Seven shifted herself a little closer.

"For eighteen years I was part of the Collective. In permanent contact with the Collective. I find the lack of continuous communication with the Collective unnerving," Seven admitted, her voice quavering. "Our present position is unacceptable."

"Why do you find the situation unpleasant?" She asked slowly.

"It reminds me of when my parents shut me in my room so that they could argue. They thought I wouldn't hear, but I did and it hurt. My father walked out after one of those arguments. I never saw him again," B'Elanna explained softly. 

They descended into companionable silence as their minds idly began thinking bitter thoughts about the location of the two missing members of their party and accepting that the cave was likely to be their tomb.

They had worked on the land slide until their nails bled, but in the end they found they were unable to move anymore rock. Their progress was blocked by a single large boulder which was wedged by smaller stones that could not be pried apart. The most annoying part was that they could see daylight around the top of the stone.

"I can't believe they would leave us here!" B'Elanna suddenly raged.

"I can find no trace of their life signs," Seven of Nine pointed out calmly. "They were not caught in the slide. We have not been able to contact them. There is no other logical explanation."

"Unless they were caught by the inhabitants," B'Elanna claimed hopefully.

"Their chances of survival with such a primitive live form would be doubtful," Seven prophesied. "Perhaps we should attempt to dislodge the captive rocks?"

"What with?" B'Elanna protested in defeat. "We've tried the phasor and it's nearly drained."

Seven of Nine rose and inspected the stone in the opening again with her tricorder. 

"Perhaps we could use the Kadhoz to channel energy into the rock?" She suggested. "I am detecting a high copper content."

"But we don't have anything to cut it with!" B'Elanna protested tiredly.

Seven slumped defeated to the floor again, leaning against their tombs seal, drawing her knees upto her chest in a child like gesture. B'Elanna moved to sit beside her and they laid their heads against each other.

"I never thought I would die like this," she said softly. "Buried alive on a primitive planet and only an ex-enemy for comfort. Can we at least go as friends?"

Seven of Nine considered the concept. "We are ship mates," she pointed out. "I was unaware there was a difference between friendship and ship mate."

"There is a big difference!" B'Elanna began, but was interrupted by a call from outside. 

"B'Elanna, Seven! Are you there?" It was Kims voice filtering to them from around the rock.

"We're here!" B'Elanna called thankfully and leaping to her feet. "Where have you been?"

"Take too long to explain!" He responded. "The Colonel is laying a charge to try and move the rock. But we only have the one photonic charge, it may not be enough, or it may be too much we don't know. You had better find some sort of cover."

Immediately B'Elanna grabbed Sevens arm and dragged her towards the pile of rock they had built, then pulled her down behind it.

It had taken Kim and the Colonel nearly two hours to travel the five miles to reach the cave. They had to slow down as they marched because the Colonel appeared to be struggling. Eventually he had had to stop.

"Help me with this please, Ensign?" He had gasped pulling some strapping out of his jacket pocket then divesting himself of both jacket and shirt.

Kim gasped to see his chest a mess of blood. He turned away quickly from the sight.

"It's only blood, Mr Kim. A little of that never hurt anybody," the Colonel pointed out calmly. "I think I received a cut or two falling down the cliff. But if we tape it up we should be able to prevent anymore damage for sufficient time."

Taking a breath Kim turned back to help him, fighting off the nausea. 

"It needs proper medical treatment," he gasped as he finished the strapping to the Colonels specification. "It could be a broken rib. That could do severe damage!"

"Only if you do something silly, and there is nothing broken, merely bruised," the Colonel opined, sliding his jacket on again. "Shall we carry on?"

Reluctantly Kim helped bring the pole up onto the Colonels shoulder again. Carrying what must be approaching 150 Kilogrammes came close to his estimation of very silly indeed for a man with a chest injury.

The Colonel was gasping for breath by the time the completed their journey and had to sit on the floor.

"See if anything is left of the pack," he panted the order. "Then see if the others are talking to us. The natives should be on their way home by now. So they will be following soon. They won't be as slow as us."

Quickly Kim did as he was bid, the tall soldier was, he decided, stupid enough to carry on despite the injury.

He was right, the Colonel had crawled upto the blocked entrance and was slowly pulling loose rock from around what they could clearly see was a large centre boulder.

"It looks as though I did some good," he mused. "I don't think all of the slide came down, or they didn't aim this fall properly and it missed!"

"I found a charge," Kim offered, handing him the round disk of a photonic charge. "It is operational."

"Excellent! I wasn't wildly optimistic with our homemade stuff," The Colonel admitted candidly. "We need to place it where it will force the rock from the hole. Perhaps at the bottom on the other side? Get the others to find shelter."

Twenty minutes later they scrambled away from the cave entrance and crouched as their charge exploded. Hesitantly they looked back.

"It didn't work!" Kim exploded in fury. The rock was still in its original resting place, firmly leaning against the opening.

"Get back to the shuttle, Ensign," the Colonel growled in his displeasure and struggling to his feet.

"The natives will come running now so we haven't got very long." He stooped and picked up two of the leather bags containing the homemade explosives and the pole they had used for carrying the Kadhoz.

"What are you intending to do?" Kim demanded nervously.

"Move that bloody rock!" The Colonel hissed. "But they are going to need transporting with some urgency, when I get them out."

"What with, home made explosives that may not even explode! Or perhaps you're just going to say 'Open Sesame!' You're in no state to do anything else!" Kim demanded. "What happens if you don't get them out?"

The Colonel glared at him, his anger rising to boiling point. "Never, ever, doubt what I can or can't do, Ensign. I will get them out if I have to mine underneath the rock until it collapses on me!" He snarled in fury. "Now piss off and watch out for the savages as you go."

Kim fled in terror from the look the Colonel was giving him, whilst the Colonel stalked back towards the cave. 

A quick investigation of the ground revealed what had gone wrong. The powerful explosive had blown a crater out from under the rock, rather than directing its force at the harder surface. The boulder was teetering on the edge of the hole. Carefully he worked his way around to the other side

"Good afternoon, Ladies!" He called, trying to keep his shortness of breath from his voice. "I'm sorry for the delay, the explosives backfired. I'm going to try again!"

"I thought you only had one charge?" B'Elanna's voice accused from inside. Both she and Seven had inspected the rock again to find it lodged as solidly as before.

"Mr Kim said we only had one photonic charge," the Colonel corrected her. "But he lacks faith in bloody mindedness!"

In alarm B'Elanna dragged Seven of Nine back to their shelter, whilst the Colonel dug his powder explosives into the base. Satisfied he lit the short fuse to the bags and leapt up the side of the rock face, searching for a lever point for the pole. Finding one he positioned himself and took the strain.

The bags exploded with a soft 'woomph!' and he put all his strength against the lever as he felt the rock shift. He felt it give a little more then give suddenly as it finally rolled into the crater left by the earlier explosives. With nothing to support himself against he fell to the ground with a sickening crunch.

Seeing the rock move, B'Elanna leapt to her feet, then grabbed Seven of Nine by the arm she dragged her towards the opening, finally tripping over the Colonel as the emerged blindly into the light. He screamed in pain as the tripped over him.

"Colonel! Are you alright!" B'Elanna gasped in alarm, dropping to her knees beside him.

He smiled weakly at her. "When you have both finished using me as a door mat, then I'll be as right as rain!" He promised in gasps. "Could you help me up?"

"Lay still!" Seven commanded kneeling beside him. "You are badly damaged. It will require emergency first aid."

Gently she pulled his jacket open to reveal the blood oozing through the earlier bandages. Desperately she tried to close the wounds with her hands.

"The locals will be along in a couple of minutes," he whispered. "There is a bag over there, full of the local produce. You may need it." He pointed towards where the Kadhoz lay.

B'Elanna scurried off to collect it as he had demanded.

"What do we do with it?" she demanded when she returned.

"In my pocket is a lighter," he panted. "Light the fuse. Count to twenty. Then throw it at them. Then run!"

"We aren't leaving you here!" B'Elanna snorted, looking for agreement from Seven.

"We cannot move him," Seven responded quietly, looking back.

"Will you both stop phaffing and sit me up!" He demanded weakly, struggling to sit.

Both women held him down firmly, until they were disturbed by a shout. Looking around they saw a number of the native savages running towards them, all appeared to be hefting spears.

B'Elanna dived for the Colonels pocket and retrieved the ancient lighter he had claimed was there. She looked at it dumbly for a moment as she tried to work out how the primitive device worked, then had it snatched from her hand by Seven of Nine. She thumbed the striker feverishly until it lit, then presented the weak flame to the grass wick from the explosive bag. She waited a moment to see if the wick would take properly as it hissed and smoked, then threw it with all her might at the rapidly approaching enemy.

The bag broke open as it hit the floor, spilling its burning contents in a two metre circle, catching four of the approaching enemy in its hot and hissing flames. They screamed in pain and ran blindly away. Those behind stopped and ran in panic as the frames seemed to spread outwards from the centre. That only left the three that were in front of the fire, they checked for a moment, then charged on towards them.

B'Elanna levelled her phasor ready, hoping that there would be at least one more good shot from the weapon before it died completely.

The leading savage hurled his spear at them. It missed, but landed close enough for the Colonel to grab. He used it to lever himself painfully into a kneeling position, then buried the end into the ground beside him leaning the point towards the oncoming enemy.

"Go!" He hissed. "I can deal with at least one."

Any further conversation was lost as they were beamed away.

Kim had run in blind panic from what he had seen in the Colonel's face. It had been blind hatred and fury. He didn't want to be the target for it, so he had run. The terror had carried him nearly halfway to the shuttle before he tripped and landed heavily. He lay stunned and panting for a few minutes, before a sound of running feet came to him. Carefully he propped himself up and peered through the tall grass he had fallen in.

A party of some thirty natives was running towards him. In alarm he looked around for somewhere to hide. He spotted a rocky outcrop 15 metres from where he lay and crawled desperately towards it, throwing himself down behind it as the first of the savages passed by, less than three metres from where he had lain.

He waited nervously for another five minutes, before raising himself again to look over and around the rocks. They had gone.

Quickly he rose to his feet and ran on towards the shuttle. It was still there and intact, they hadn't been able to work out how to open the door, he realised thankfully, as he opened it and dived in. His brief note of thanks was shattered as a spear flew over his head and buried itself into the back of the pilots seat. They had been waiting for him. Quickly he slapped the door control. Another spear entered and smashed into the door control, jamming the door in a semi-open position. He looked out in time to see three savages charging towards them. It was enough to have him diving for a console.

"Computer activate level nine force field across the entrance door!" He screamed in alarm as the first native hit the boarding ramp.

The doorway flickered momentarily, then the savage hit the force field at a dead run. He staggered as the force field stopped him, then fell back into the path of the other two. Leaving Kim to sink thankfully into a chair.

He waited for a couple of minutes to recover before moving towards the pilots seat. The spear had penetrated the metal and plastic of the seat, anybody who had been sitting there would undoubtedly have been killed. Still shivering from the close calls he pulled it out and sat down.

A bang from behind him made him look back in alarm. The savages were throwing spears at the doorway again and the force field was crackling as they struck.

Fearing that one of them by some freak would enter, he fired up the engines and deployed savage amounts of power until it lurched into the sky.

As his heart stopped pounding from the fright, he grew calm enough to take control of the shuttle again and pointed it towards where his comrades were. Or at least where he hoped they would be. There was a tall column of dirty smoke coming from that location now.

Fearing the worst he set the shuttle into a fierce dive and scanned the area nervously for their life signs. At 200 metres he brought the shuttle to a hover, picking up the three life signs he was searching for and hit the transporter controls. As they materialised he redirected the controls and expertly picked out the Kadhoz block that he and the Colonel had so painstakingly carried from the settlement.

"Everybody Okay?" He called nervously over his shoulder.

They nodded and crawled to the force field covered door.

"Does the term 'Setting the world alight,' mean anything anymore?" The Colonel asked sombrely as he gazed at the rapidly spreading fire that they had started with his bag of explosives.

B'Elanna shook her head. "No, I've never heard it," she admitted. "What does it mean?"

"In my day it meant doing something that people got very excited about," the Colonel sighed gently, sagging to the floor again. "In our case I think we may have achieved it literally. That fire we set off is nearly 800 yards in diameter and still spreading. Can we do anything about it?"

"What do you suggest, Colonel?" Kim asked from his seat.

"We can excavate a trench across the fire's path with phasors," Seven of Nine volunteered, catching the drift of the conversation.

"A fire break, that would do nicely," the Colonel agreed quickly

Kim considered the suggestion. "Tell me where," he demanded eventually.

Seven of Nine scrambled into her seat and scanned the terrain. "There are two outcrops of inert rock 800 metres to the East, 1000 metres apart," she announced quickly. "The fire will hit that location in twenty minutes. It can be stopped there!"

Kim set course to comply.

Thirty minutes later they watched the fire hit their hastily blasted trench and check it's onwards rush. "I think that will do it!" Kim stated smugly. "Setting course for return to Voyager!"

The shuttle soared away. 

"Did somebody say there was a first aid kit aboard this thing?" The Colonel asked quietly. "I think that now would be suitable. I think I'd prefer you three handling it rather than face the blasted Doctor and his dumb questions!"

Seven of Nine slipped from her seat and wrested the medical tricorder from B'Elanna's unprotesting hand. B'Elanna grinned quietly and winked at Kim as he turned in his seat.

"I'll try and get the door closed, shall I?" She announced brightly.

"Acceptable," Seven claimed, examining the tricorders results. 

"Lacerations and abrasions to the chest and back. Severe muscular bruising," she intoned. 

"Your injuries are not as severe as originally suspected," she accused.

"Not disappointed I hope? And I won't have to face 'Him', will I?" The Colonel asked quickly, flashing a hopeful grin at her.

"The results will have to be confirmed by the Doctor. However I am pleased that there is no severe damage," Seven confessed. "The Sick Bay is not suitable for your continued education."

He groaned loudly.

"What made you think the black stuff would explode?" B'Elanna asked curiously as she settled back into her seat.

Carefully he dug into his jacket pocket and extracted a small handful of the dirt he had used.

"You tell me," he suggested, handing her the dirt. "I think if you use your boxes it will be something not unlike gunpowder." 

"I suspected it was more powerful than I originally thought when I saw it flare on the step," he explained. "Originally I thought it would burn softly because of the oil. After that we had to the best we could."

B'Elanna looked at him sharply, then at Seven of Nine. "You're right, Seven. He does!" She laughed.

He looked at both of the women in confusion, lost at the new track of conversation.

Spotting his confusion, Seven of Nine attempted to clarify the situation. "We discussed your adaptability in difficult situations" she explained, deepening his confusion further.

"If your offer is still open, Lieutenant. I would like to accept. I wish to apologise for my actions aboard the ship. I will try to avoid repeating them," She added, talking over the Colonels head.

"We'll see how it goes!" B'Ellana grinned an acceptance.

The shuttle docked with Voyager 48 hours later. "Any problems?" Captain Janeway demanded as B'Elanna and Seven of Nine hurried an Engineering crew out with the Kadhoz.

"Nothing we couldn't handle!" Kim reported quickly. "The Colonel has a full report."

Her face flushed and she gripped Kim firmly by the arm and escorted him out of the Shuttle Bay.

"You were in charge of the mission. Why do I need to read the Colonel's opinions?" She demanded crossly.

"I'm sorry, Captain. But he wrote his as soon as Seven finished treating his injuries," Kim spluttered. "He had a better idea of what was happening than anybody else from the moment we landed. I'll provide my report tomorrow."

"He was injured? Why wasn't it reported?" The Captains voice rose an octave.

"Not seriously, more cuts and bruises when he fell off the cliff!" Kim stammered. "He doesn't want to see the Doc!"

Out the corner of her eye the Captain spotted the Colonel creeping away. "Colonel Samuels. Go and see the Doctor for a check up," she ordered with a sigh.

"Ma'am!" He responded unhappily and saluted.

"I want a full debriefing as soon as we get the power coupling working," she added quickly before he disappeared.

"Before we begin, how is the new power coupling, B'Elanna?" The Captain demanded in the debriefing two days later.

"The Kadhoz is proving better than the standard fitment, Captain," B'Elanna enthused. "It doesn't seem to need the same degree of finish as normal to transfer all the power we can produce. A new spare coupling will be completed tomorrow."

"Good," she sighed, before turning to the reports that had been presented by the Colonel and Ensign Kim.

"These two reports differ in detail," she accused. 

"For instance, both mention that you created your own explosives to deal with the rock that blocked the tunnel," she continued. "But strangely, only one states who worked out how to make and use it. Both describe the trap that caused the tunnel blockage. Only one states it was anybody's fault."

"Why have you put yourself on report, Colonel?" She rounded fiercely on the tall soldier.

"I made a mistake, Ma'am. They override the level of benefit," he responded neutrally, seemingly unaffected by her stern gaze. 

"Why?" She demanded. "Ensign Kim virtually claims you took control of that Away Mission the moment there was trouble!"

"I missed the building of the landslip, Ma'am," the Colonel pointed out. "I should have thought of it. It meant the Away Team was put in danger."

"Nobody could have foreseen that trap, even with a tricorder!" She exploded.

"I should have, Ma'am," he responded quietly. "That is what I was there for!"

"I am disregarding your report, Colonel," she declared, putting his notepad aside.

"You are implying I am a liar, Ma'am?" He questioned sharply.

"No!" She denied quickly in sudden fear of his reaction. "But you didn't tell the whole truth with regard to your actions, did you?"

"I do not wish to be included in your records, Ma'am!"

"Why not?" She demanded hotly.

"It makes me a target. I do not like being a target, people get hurt," he claimed.

She stared at him incredulously. Here was a man that was denying he had done anything remarkable on a remarkable mission simply because he didn't want to be noted for his successes.

"But you did see notable feats from others?" She commented, picking up his notepad again. "The rest of your report mirrors Ensign Kim's almost perfectly."

"Ma'am!" He agreed.

"If I continue to disregard your report, what will you do?" She challenged quickly, dark thoughts nagging at her mind.

"You have accused me of being a liar, Ma'am. There is only one action open for me. Or you for that matter!" he claimed quickly. "I will have to leave."

She sighed in defeat. "I'll consider what goes into the logs," she agreed reluctantly. "B'Elanna, Seven, based upon the combined testimony of both reports of your actions, your sentences are rescinded. Dismissed!"

Quickly they turned for the door.

"Before you go, Colonel. There is one other thing you can clear up for me!" She claimed as he approached the door.

He stopped and turned back towards her. "Ma'am?" He queried.

"There is a small matter of a bottle and some biscuits that appeared in Cargo Bay 2. You don't know how they got there do you?"

"Ma'am?" He questioned.

"Seven was in solitary confinement. She didn't have anything like that when she went in. But you did. Break my commands to a crewman again and I will put you off the ship!" She threatened.

"Ma'am!" He responded with a neutral shrug. 

"Have you ever been in solitary confinement?" He asked quietly. 

"I have," He continued quickly, before she could respond. "I was imprisoned in a corrugated iron box, 6 feet in all directions in a jungle clearing for five days before I escaped. You don't need or want to know what that was like in the heat of the day. But for Miss Nine solitary confinement isn't that far from that tin box. She needs company of some sort, or she will break." 

"If you will excuse me, Ma'am. I have a dinner date with two delightful ladies," he grinned quickly.

"Who?" The Captain demanded quickly, fascinated.

"Lieutenant Torres and Miss Seven of Nine, Ma'am. It seems that shutting them up alone together had quite an effect."

She nodded an acceptance and he left, saluting smartly, leaving her to ponder the difference between the sentence she had set and the sentence that the two women had endured. Then about the man who could tell the difference.

   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk
   [2]: http://www.thestoryboard.co.uk/



	4. 1-04 I Soldier

# 1-04 I Soldier

_In which the Captain makes the Colonel an offer and is surprised by his refusal to take it up. The Voyager crew find out more about their unusual passenger and finish with a ball! Seven of Nine receives an offer she finds she can not refuse..._

_Disclaimer:- Characters in this story are fictitious, no semblance to real people is intended or should be taken. Voyager and all characters (except the Colonel) are copyright Paramount Studios._

_The storyline and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail _[_story@rgower.plus.com_][1]_._

_This is the fourth story of a sequence. If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway._

_This story is rated PG_

_©R Gower 2001_

  
  


In the dim light of the Star Ship Voyager's Cargo Bay 2 a complex machine hummed quietly as it quietly repaired, energised and correlated the data it was collecting from the slim figure that was held unsensingly in its seemingly supernatural grasp. 

The figure was a lonely one as it stood there, seemingly asleep. It was definitely female, even if she herself was not totally aware of the full implications of the term, the smooth swell of her breasts were distinct even in the half light of the Cargo Bay, highlighted as they were by the body hugging suit she was wearing. Her hair a golden blonde, scrunched up firmly at the back of her head in a strict bouffon, along with the silvery metallic plate that extended from beside the bridge of her nose then circled around her left eye to finish underneath in the centre of her cheek, gave her a handsome regal yet slightly alien look. 

The machine stopped and the young woman that was held in its grasp was released. Her blue eyes snapping open as she felt her senses come alive in one smooth action, taking control of her body again.

Satisfied that everything was in order, she stepped from the alcove that had held her for the last six hours. Her long slender legs carrying her impossibly erect body smoothly towards a computer console that was located a mere fifteen feet in front.

She pressed a button and started to speak.

"Seven of Nine, Personal Log." 

"The Colonel is still failing to achieve expected results in his training. I believe he is not putting sufficient attention into his studies, he is easily distracted. We will re-attempt applied warp dynamics after the staff meeting."

"I have repeatedly failed to allow sufficient time to realign the deflector for a new long range sweep. I shall engage the Colonel to assist me."

"My discussions with the Colonel are continuing to yield concepts that require extensive consideration, with a view to my understanding of humanity and its relationship with my experiences as a Borg. I cannot place a reason to the personal value either he or I place in them, or my feelings when he holds me, but they are proving beneficial. I am finding his company agreeable."

"End."

Seven of Nine completed her morning entry into her personal log. For the last three months, the Colonel had been a major factor in her log entries, appearing in almost every sentence. 

He was also a major factor in her waking thoughts. If he was present in the room she found herself watching him as he moved and interacted with the crew, sometimes he would catch her watching him and and he would colour slightly and smile shyly at her and she would look away hurriedly. 

If he wasn't physically present then he was never far from her thoughts, whether it was dealing with orbit equations during lessons, laser ball on the holodeck with the Captain, or even conversation on the rare occasions she ventured to the Mess, she found herself a willing contributor to any topic involving him. 

This willingness had been noticed and commented on by the surprised crew between themselves, they were now watching her reactions as hard as she watched the Colonel.

She found the handsome Colonel a fascinating subject to think about and could rarely keep herself entirely focussed on her own duties. Sometimes she talked to him about her Borg life, he would listen, when he felt her become distressed he would hold her hand. Sometimes he put an arm around her and held her gently. This was the most surprising and comforting thing of all, she liked being held by this strong man! It troubled her analytical mind that she could find no logical reason for her interest or the strange 'feelings' that dogged her whenever she thought about him.

Thinking that she may be in some way 'damaged' she had consulted the Doctor, who had simply directed her to a range of texts that had left her with even bigger questions than she had started with.

  
  


The Colonel, dressing in his quarters, had no doubt as to what his feelings for Seven of Nine portended and he was worried. Her manner, disliked by most of the crew, appealed to him, as did her continuous strife to achieve perfection and understanding. He was fascinated by her analytical consideration of problems and loved her intelligence and the matter of fact way she spoke, even the Borg implant around her eye had an aesthetic appeal he found hard to ignore, all that topped by her physical beauty and perfection, made her difficult to ignore. 

Under the cool manner and impassive mask she wore, he had detected the sense of loneliness, confusion and fear she carried within her. These had intrigued him and had led him to investigate the ships records, both about her and the Borg, as well as his discussions with her. The results showed parallels that he found distressing, they had helped waken a desire to protect in him that he had not felt for years.

He knew he was falling in love with her and was struggling to keep it hidden behind his own protective mask. He could not find a way of stopping his slide into oblivion.

He had tried keeping as much distance as possible between them, but Voyager was simply too small to keep away from her. Throwing himself at his studies was similarly useless, as his instructor he had to approach her on a regular basis for assistance and examination. As for other tasks, there were simply too few on the ship that he was technically capable of carrying out proficiently. In desperation he had approached both Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay again, begging for reassignment. They had listened to his arguments carefully, then refused on the grounds that there was nobody on the ship more available or qualified to act as instructor. His request to be released from the ship was refused point blank. They had simply told him he would have to come to terms with his feelings one way or another.

To compound his discomfort, he had noticed that she was watching him whenever they were in a room together, indeed there were times when she seemed to deliberately seek him out, even physically looking for him instead of using the communication system aboard the ship. The way she looked away guiltily if he caught her eye, suggested that there was more than casual interest. This he found the most distressing thing of all. 

He was aware that through some quirk of nature or science, he didn't know which, he had arrived at the end of the worm hole that had brought him to Voyager, physically somewhat younger than he had been when he left Earth. He also knew that the nano-probes that had been used to heal him, had removed almost every scar on his body, leaving, he had admitted reluctantly, a young and handsome man. 

He could not accept that his stormy past and doubtful future would ever make him an acceptable beau for any woman, let alone Seven of Nine.

He sighed wistfully and inspected his uniform for fault in the mirror, it was a problem that he would have to find a solution to when it came to a head. He gave his green tie a final twist to get it positioned correctly, before carefully placing his peaked hat upon his head and heading for the door. His uniform was about the only thing he had left that he could show visible pride in. There was no way he was going to let his uniform disgrace him, or he disgrace it, if it could be avoided.

  
  


"Excuse me!" The Colonel announced at the daily staff meeting. He was interrupting another of Seven and Tuvoks extended discussions comparing the efficiency and logic of Borgs, humans and Vulcans.

"You are arguing about different things, efficiency and logic are not always inextricably linked, they depend upon the goal and its measurement."

The assembled meeting stiffened in expectancy, the Colonel didn't often get involved in the meetings discussions, preferring to sit and listen. When he did chose to get involved, then he often threw a whole new perspective into the debate that would stop it dead.

He waved down Tuvoks protest as he opened his mouth.

"If you'll permit me, I'll explain my interpretation, demonstrate why they will both fail, then you can shoot me down afterwards."

The Captain nodded her assent, smiling. She had decided to bring the Colonel into the staff meetings to aide his integration into Voyagers crew structure. In the event it had been unnecessary, the Colonel had employed his own methods of introducing himself to the crew. In the process he found out more about their personal lives, their views and opinions about their situation and crewmates, their hopes and aspirations, than the computer records could ever tell. Secretly she felt a hint of jealousy at the way this tall soldier, with the lopsided grin, and easy manner, had so insidiously managed to become an integral part of the ship. It would be good to see if somebody could bring him up short. Tuvok and Seven, on their favourite topic, might just be the people to do it. Besides it had been a quiet week, she thought.

Taking the Captains assent, he started. "Many years ago I went to a lecture at a University, the guest speaker, I forget his name, was a Professor of Probability and Mathematics. One of the examples he offered of logical thinking was in proving that crows are black not white. He argued that the only logical way to prove that crows were all black, was to kill all the black crows and count what was left. You had to kill the crows because of their annoying habit of breeding, thus affecting the balance and preventing a definitive answer. It is therefore more efficient, and a lot easier on the crows, to take a number of samples of crows, count the number of black crows and the number of white crows then you can use probability to show that any crow you met would be black not white."

"Now. It seems the Borg are very logical in their aim to be the dominant life form. The logical approach to being dominant life is to be the only life form. But that is not efficient. Humans have by and large become dominant in the Alpha Quadrant without the need and expense of continuous warfare and annihilation."

"The Borg are efficient!" Protested Seven, "They gain knowledge, it is added to the collective."

"With which they do nothing," he snapped back. "The Borg is a race that has given up the ability to efficiently invent solutions to their problems, in an all out and logical' attempt to assimilate everybody else's. The most efficient way of gaining technology is to trade it. If you have a technology that allows you grow food for a million people in an area the size of a matchbox, but need to get water from fire, what is more logical than trading that knowledge with some one that can create water from fire but can't feed itself? It also means that if they then develop an even better process then you can trade for that as well! The Borg approach means that whilst the winner takes all, nothing more can be done with it. 

It also ignores the not unreasonable assumption that they will one day meet a race that is older, more powerful and nastier than itself. Against which it will not be able to defend itself, because it doesn't have the independence of mind, or the history, to put all the disparate technologies it's stolen together. You should recognise that! During the species 8472 debacle. The Borg needed a comparatively low technology race to invent a method of combating a much superior force. Voyager brought different technologies together, human, Borg and 8472's. All of that knowledge was within the Borg's Collective, but they couldn't use it!"

"Then there is their organisation."

"That is efficient!" protested the ex-Borg again, but her tone suggested a much lower degree of confidence.

"Is it?" he asked mildly. "Let us look at it."

"It is governed by a central mind, nothing wrong with that, provided it doesn't go wrong. Each drone knows its place and keeps to it, only being activated when whatever knob it needs to twiddle needs twiddling. It doesn't know any different, it is mindless, you could employ animals to do it!"

"If something goes wrong, it needs to contact the collective to find the next manoeuvre. But the Collective is attached to billions of other drones who are also demanding attention, so the answer may take time, that is inefficient." 

"Each time the Borg take over another race they gain more drones, so there is an even greater demand on the Collective. Not only that, but it gains more knowledge, that it must sort out, catalogue, cross match with previous knowledge, how it ranks and so on. Personally I'd call that a recipe for a major headache and heart attack. But I suspect the knowledge of aspirin is also lost in one of the endless loops of cataloguing. 

Given that all this is going on, it also has to decide who is going to be taken over next. Without a second mindset how does it decide the best approach out of the thousands it has in its grasp? Has it occurred to it, that turning up with a couple of cubes, shouting 'Resistance is Useless!' may not bring the best results. It works because of numbers, not efficiency."

"Compare that with this ship. It is driven by efficiency not logic. We have our central mind, the Captain," he pointed at the the Captain, who flushed at being described as the 'Mind' of the ship. He wasn't going to be beaten today she realised. Then she frowned at the next statement. 

"But she doesn't control the ship!"

"She has a team of specialists that do it for her. Her job is to ensure that those specialists combine their talents to achieve a goal, the side issues are not important. I doubt if she even knows that Naomi fell off a tree on the holodeck yesterday, or that a replicator doesn't work on deck four, or the caveman still hasn't completed his exams. They are dealt with by the specialists, it's not her problem, unless it affects the overall performance of the ship or crew, then she needs to step in and crack a few knuckles."

The Colonel sat back, challenging a rebuke. Seven frowned, she had not enjoyed his dismantling of the system that she was still drawn to. Nor did she like being reminded of how the pupil, for whom she had taken on a personal duty to teach, had repeatedly failed to grasp the core principles of warp drive.

"Your studies are inefficiently organised," she muttered.

The Colonel noticed a look of smugness pass across Lieutenant Torres's face at Seven's discomfort and attempted to come to the defence of his tutor, by deflecting it at himself.

"They're probably not," he admitted. "Nor do I declare any affection for logic. I'm a six-hundred year old human trying to do the best I can, in subjects that hadn't even been invented when I was born. If you needed complicated maths, in my day, you used logarithmic tables. To be honest I'm amazed you've got so much into this thick skull, but I promise I will get there!"

The Captain also smiled, he was not the only one who was amazed at his progress, so were the all the crew, except possibly Seven. She wondered, if the tables were turned, if she could have achieved so much.

Seeing that there would be no objections to the Colonel's monologue, she straightened up.

"Perhaps we had better give you a task that you can excel at," she claimed confidently.

The Colonel raised a questioning eyebrow at her, "Ma'am?" He asked.

"Tuvok, Chakotay and I have discussed the need to improve the level of security on the ship. We want you to train some of the crew to carry out operations like the Vordun Action."

She had expected some positive reaction, a smile, anything. Instead she got silence as he considered his hands.

Finally he asked quietly. "You know what you are asking? You know what I am?"

"I believe so! You are the best man for the job!" she claimed, exasperation taking over from surprise.

"With respect Ma'am I don't think you do. I am a soldier, my primary function is to settle disputes in the most direct and often bloody way possible. On top of that I belonged to a small specialist force who's function was to go into places and conditions that nobody else could stand and cause the maximum possible disruption. I was very good at it, but I was an ideal candidate, low IQ, no home or family and an internal rage that couldn't be put out. I could train some of your crew to be like me, but in so doing I will brutalise them, submit them to pain and depravations that you can only imagine. Then I'll make them do it again but in conditions even worse. I will break them, then rebuild them into machines that are turned on and off at will. If I took the whole ships crew, I doubt I would find more than a couple who could survive the training intact!"

"You make it sound like Borg Assimilation!" Chakotay announced.

"In many ways it is worse!" Claimed the Colonel. "The Borg take peoples minds away, they can't think or feel about what they've done. I cannot do that, it is not within my abilities. If I train the crew to my standards, they will still have those thoughts and feelings that make them human. They will put them aside when needed, but they will still be there when not and they will feel it. I urge you Captain to please reconsider your request. If you demand it, I shall improve the quality of your security team, but I will not make them soldiers like me!"

The meeting sat appalled at the vehremenance he had shown against the idea. Seven shifted uneasily in her seat, she was remembering the conversations she had had with the Colonel, and how they affected her.

Finally the Captain swallowed, uncomfortable at the visions that had crossed her mind as he had spoken. "Very well, I'll consider your request Colonel."

Tuvok spoke up, "You are the only person we know that has fought the Borg in direct action. As such your experience is invaluable."

"You really want my advice regards the Borg and this ship?" The Colonel asked. "I'll give you that for free. You don't need to make zombies of the crew for it. Runaway, fast. Leave the actual fighting to fleets and walking dead like me! The only way the Borg can be stopped, is to find the Collective and destroy it totally."

He glared at them silently.

The meeting was brought to an uncomfortable close.

"Before you go Colonel, I'd like a word," Janeway called.

The Colonel waited until everybody departed.

"I do not like people saying 'NO' to me Colonel. Why did you do it?" she asked in a hard voice.

"Because I believe you made a mistake. You don't need or want twenty people like me, the cost is too high!" He replied evenly.

Her voice softened. "How did you survive in the army for so long if it was such a hard existence?" Perhaps she could get into this man herself without having to rely on Seven.

He looked into her eyes. He sighed, he didn't want to hurt her, anymore than hurt Seven.

"In truth, when I joined the Army I knew no better. From the age of one I'd been pushed from one home to another, beaten, abused and confused. When I was allowed to escape from school the army offered consistency and the companionship of several hundred others in exactly the same position. It wasn't worried about intelligence or history, it just demanded that you do as your told." he said levelly.

"Let me give you an example?" He said, seeing her confusion and resorting to another story from his past.

"In the course of one operation, I was sent on a reconnaissance mission with four others to pave the way for a strike mission. On the way back we almost ran into enemy patrols, we were surrounded but undiscovered, so we dug in and hid. They pitched camp on top of us, so we had to lay still until they left four days later. That is four days without food or water, barely daring to breath, let alone relieving the cramps in ones legs, whilst being steadily eaten by insects. I was even used by one of the buggers as a seat! They even laid on entertainment for themselves! I ended up watching people, soldiers like me, some of them from my own regiment! Being tortured to death, less than five feet from my hiding place and I couldn't do a thing about it! Do you have any idea what you have to do to people to get them to endure that sort of stress without breaking?"

"No," admitted the Captain, horrified by the prospect.

"I do," he admitted. "I'll tell you, you need to start from the right point You need people without hope. Only two of us on that mission got home with our sanity intact. I'll also tell you there isn't a man or woman on this ship that doesn't believe you will get Voyager and themselves home."

"What about you?" She asked in awed tones, "Do you think you'll get home?"

"I am at home, or as near as I will ever get," he said simply, "I can't go back to where I was, because that doesn't exist. I can't look forward to going to Earth because it's not where I came from anymore. So I'll have to make the most of what I have, a safe place to sleep and the companionship of friends."

The Colonel stood, straightened his tunic and saluted the Captain. "Now, if you'll forgive me I think I had better return to my studies, before Miss Nine throws me out of this home," he smiled.

She smiled back, weakly. 

He turned and left her with her thoughts. He had shaken her considerably. She found herself considering how much pain the man had taken and how he managed to conceal it so well. More foreboding, just how much he would take.

With her thoughts still haunting her, she returned subdued to the bridge.

"You got him to accept?" asked Chakotay.

"No," she replied distractedly, "He made me see the error in our demand."

"There must be something else to him than death and destruction!" She declared desperately, "Or else why is he still alive? Or why are we still here?"

"There is," said Chakotay knowingly, "It's called Seven of Nine. You know there's a book running on the crew decks on which one will notice first that they're in love."

"But he's terrified of her," she pointed out.

"No. He's afraid he will start loving her and terrified she might love him back," he corrected her, "That's why he keeps asking for reassignment."

She nodded, "You're right of course," she admitted, "I suspect it's the only thing in the galaxy he is scared of. You know she spends a lot of time chasing after him?"

Chakotay nodded wisely.

  
  


The Colonel for his part was also finding settling down to his duties difficult. In the end he threw down his pen in disgust. Seven looked up from her console, irritated by the interruption, "You are having difficulties," it was a statement.

"Yes," he admitted wistfully. "Not with the subject for once, I think I've cracked that." 

"The warp simulation is similar to specification," Seven confirmed. Was that a hint of relief he heard in her voice he wondered.

"The problem is me! People must think that my life on Earth was a continuous stream of blood, terror and death. Amidst all of it, there was me gaily waving my sword, watching but not feeling. The truth is it wasn't like that much of the time. What sort of monster does that make me look?"

"A big one?" Suggested Seven of Nine evenly.

"I know," he agreed heavily, "What can I do to correct the impression?"

Suddenly an idea flashed to mind. 

"The Holodeck can be programmed to appear like anything can't it?" He asked Seven.

"Yes, but the programming is currently beyond you," Seven replied coolly.

"Will you assist me in creating a programme?" he asked, suddenly enthusiastic.

"I can spare some time from my duties. If you need something specific it would be more efficient to approach Ensign Kim, he has a particular abilities in holodeck programming," Seven replied, wondering what the Colonel had in mind.

"I think you will do fine. If I'm right, you'll only need to create one small programme. After that I think I may be able to cope. If you would permit me a couple of days from my studies?"

"The Captain, believes I have been pushing you too hard. Your request is acceptable. I shall assist you," announced Seven.

Overjoyed, the Colonel leapt up, grabbed and kissed her on the cheek. "Miss Nine, you're a wonderful girl, please don't ever change! Shall we start now?"

Flustered by the sudden change in pace and mood, she could only nod in agreement. "We may go to the Holodecks now."

  
  


The programme the Colonel wanted was for a man. As she worked, the curious Seven asked, "Who is this person that you wish me to recreate?"

"Corporal Miller was a computer hacker. In his criminal life he broke into more bank computer systems than soft mick. In my service I had him keep track on our American allies across the field. He was never caught!"

"He is unreliable. Why do you wish him to assist you?" asked Seven.

"I'm hoping that when you've finished creating him for me, he can complete what I have in mind," the Colonel answered cryptically.

After several hours of programming and questioning, she announced. "The programme you requested is complete, I shall activate it now. Computer run programme 'Samuels01'."

A small weasely man materialised with a computer console. He was 5' 4" tall, about forty years old, with a long thin face, thin nose, thin described this man to a tee. His eyes were narrow, the pupils dilated. Thin black hair was streaked back from a receding hair line. He looked, Seven thought, as dishonest as she had surmised from the Colonel's description. He was dressed in a bottle green uniform similar to the Colonel, instead of a full length sword, he was wearing a shorter one of eighteen inches in length.

"You stated that you wished your 'project' to remain a secret. I have therefore incorporated some extra routines that may help you achieve your requirements, including some additional access to ships systems that will enable it to continue when not active," intoned Seven proudly.

"Thank you Miss Nine, you've been too kind, I'll have to keep a close eye on him though!"

"Corporal Miller, I have a little job for you," the Colonel called.

The hologram started, turned, slammed to attention and saluted the Colonel.

"Sir! Wow what a babe!" It announced spying Seven of Nine.

"Corporal Miller! I will mind you to control your lecherous comments, in the presence of a lady, or me. Now shut up and listen. I've got something I want you to help me with, that you will enjoy and if you don't that is tough. Got it!"

"Sir!" The holograph replied grinning.

Seven realising her presence was no longer required, turned and left.

"Now Corporal, I've gained for you. Access to some new technology that allows you to create a solid holographic image of whatever is required. I want you to recreate the Officers Mess, Mess Orderlies, and the senior regimental officers, I need guest places for seven people ready for a Mess Dinner in three days time. You can do it!" The Colonel hesitated slightly in his command.

"Sir!" replied the hologram smartly.

"Carry on Corporal! I've a couple of other things to arrange."

"Sir!" the hologram replied again, then sat down at his console and started work.

Smiling the Colonel marched for the door. "This might just work," he thought hopefully.

Carefully he put the programme into the background, partly to leave the deck free for others, but mostly to ensure nobody walked in on the little Corporals work.

His next port of call was Neelix.

He found him in his normal place, fussing over the lunch time soup.

"Mr Neelix, old chap!" He greeted him.

"Colonel, what can I do for you? It's a little early for lunch!" The Talaxian commented warmly from behind his range.

"I need a big favour, your discretion and your catering. I'm planning a little dinner party on the holodeck, will you help?"

"Well Seven doesn't eat much, so there is no problem, even the holodeck can create that!"

"Who said it was Miss Nine?" he asked in fascination.

"Everybody knows that you and her have an interest in each other," the little cook stammered.

"I assure you my interest is purely platonic." He hoped the lie sounded convincing. Then added, "If it's spread I'll rip your furry ears off," trying to sound threatening.

"As you wish Colonel," he replied, clearly not believing a word of it. "So how many are you catering for exactly?"

"Eight, plus a dozen holographic officers and I need a full five course meal, that's entrees, soup, fish, meat and desert, with brandy and wine. You may have my unused replicator rations for the last few months and any other assistance you need, I shall provide."

He scratched his ear thoughtfully. "How many rations have you got exactly?" he knew the Colonel rarely used the replicator.

"Over the last eight weeks. All of them. No, sorry, I tell a lie, I used one for some more paper and pen. Will that be enough?"

"I think I can arrange something Colonel, are you sure you only want five courses?" Silently he laughed, the Colonel could have his dinner party twice over with that many rations. Even if he didn't have the rations, the little cook would have found a way for it to happen. He liked the Colonel despite all the unpleasant stories he was forced to narrate from his previous life.

The Colonel thanked him profusely, then set about the final task in his quarters. From memory he sketched out the official regimental invitation, working on it until satisfied, then persuaded the replicator to provide cards, and a bottle of ink. Carefully he crafted a quill from a stiffener from his Shako using a pocket knife, then equally carefully addressed the cards.

When completed he went to check on Miller's progress. The Corporal was as quick and efficient as he remembered him to be, possibly quicker.

"Sir, I've completed the Mess, the orderlies and most of the Officers, I am also assuming that you will require the regimental band, so I'm duplicating characters from programmes that have been left on the system. I must say this is an easy system, it almost programmes itself!"

"Oh, it does Corporal, it does," he said with feeling.

Together they sat and debugged the programme well into the night.

  
  


There was a buzz in the following days staff meeting. To start the Colonel was missing, but also small envelopes had appeared at each officers usual seating place, each immaculately addressed to the person in question.

"What's this?" The captain asked. Curious she carefully opened the envelope to find the small card inside.

She took it out and examined the card. It was 6"x4", heavily engraved in copper plate. At one top corner there was an emblem of a crown, at the other was the regimental crest of the Rifles, with their latin motto 'Et Adverses Et Victor' on a banner spread between the two.

"This is a work of art!" She exclaimed to the gathering.

Then she read the card to the rest of the assembly, "Lieutenant Colonel Samuels and Officers of the 1st Battalion, 60th Regiment cordially extend an Invitation to Formal Dinner and Ball 19:00 hours tomorrow to Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commander, United Federation Star Ship, Voyager. RSVP."

"I've not seen anything like this since passing out at the Academy, I feel like an excited Cadet again!" She announced, as the others tore open their envelopes to find similar cards. 

Only Seven had not opened hers. The Captain caught her eye, "What's up Seven, not going to the ball?"

"I cannot go, I must regenerate. I have nothing to wear," she protested, suddenly realising the state of the occasion.

"You can regenerate early, and as for what to wear, we will find something for you. Come and see me after the shift, Cinderella must go to the ball" the Captain laughed cheerfully, a mischievous idea crossing her mind. "Besides you may enjoy the interaction."

"Captain? Who is Cinderella?" asked Seven, raised her questioning eyebrow.

"Cinderella was a fairy story about a beautiful girl made to work like a slave by her ugly sisters, until she met her Prince Charming. I'll tell you about it later, when I fit you up for a dress."

"How did he manage it? The holodeck programme, getting the cards here, what's going to happen, you must have had something to do with it Seven?" Tom Paris asked.

"I assisted him to create a small programme for the holodeck. That is all I know!" Seven protested.

"Knowing the Colonel he sneaked in and delivered the cards this morning. What about food, surely he hasn't got the rations to replicate food for something like that?" Asked Torres in wonder, she was in a continuous struggle to make hers last.

Chakotay checked a manifest. "According to this, the Colonel has replicated exactly, a set of curtains, 12 cards, a bottle of ink, a pad of paper and a pen, since he joined us, so yes he could. He really doesn't like replicated rations, does he?"

"Perhaps we should interrogate Neelix?" suggested Tuvok.

"No, I don't think so, I believe the Colonel is trying to demonstrate that he and his men are not all that he has had to tell us. I think it would be better to go with it," suggested Chakotay.

"Agreed," announced the Captain. "I think a general brushing down of formal dress is called for by everybody, I for one need to check I still fit mine. If there is nothing pressing I suggest this meeting is dismissed."

The all adjourned conversation buzzing. Rarely had the shift clock been watched so long or so hard.

  
  


Seven appeared at the Captains quarters, as instructed, to find B'Elanna Torres there as well.

"Come in Seven, I asked B'Elanna to join us, to help us sort out your clothes. We've just been going over some ideas, come and have a look," The Captain greeted her.

"I am unclear as to the point of dressing up for dinner?" Stated Seven, looking at the baffling range of clothing that the Captain and Chief Engineer had found in the archives.

"For officers it is an opportunity to look important and strut around like an overstuffed peacock. It is not always popular, but occasionally it's good for the soul. For young unattached women it is the chance to look absolutely stunning. You should look stunning on your first date," explained the Captain. "Now I think this one don't you?" She asked the two women.

"It has possibilities," admitted Torres. "But perhaps we should pull the waist a little, like this," she said eyeing the picture and Sevens body mischievously.

"Oh yes, and perhaps a little glitter," giggled the Captain, adjusting the picture.

"Now some decoration?"

"Arcturon Moonstones would be perfect, I love those and the colour will set her hair off," suggested Torres. "That's perfect!" She declared looking over the Captains shoulder.

"This will be perfect on you Seven, you will knock him dead!" Cooed the delighted Captain, showing Seven the finished design.

"Captain, I have no desire to kill anybody, certainly not the Colonel. Nor do I see a method by which this garment will cause damage!" She protested.

The Captain and Torres both laughed. 

"It's a figure of speech, it means you will make a bigger impression on people than normal," the Captain said.

"Now strip off that suit, while we replicate this dress."

The dress took the replicator a full five minutes to reproduce. Together the two Star Fleet Officers helped the bemused girl into her new costume. She took their word for it that suited her perfectly, her initial thoughts were, it was uncomfortable.

"Now take it with you and hang it up ready for tomorrow, and make sure you're fully regenerated for the dinner." instructed the Captain.

The baffled ex-Borg left for her regeneration. She tried the dress again in the cargo bay, and examined herself as best she could. As she turned the material rustled against her skin, it tingled and she felt a sudden desire to be thought special, by at least one man.

  
  


The Colonel spent the following day, checking and rechecking the programmes. He wanted the evening to be a good simulation of Mess Dinners back at home. The amount of work he had put in and the nerves he felt, reminded him of the first Dinner he had had to organise as a Second Lieutenant in the Green Jackets. He had remembered everything he thought ruefully, the band, the music, place cards. Everything, that was except the food. How the regimental cooks had created a full meal at two hours notice he never knew, but after the roasting he got from the Sergeant Chef, he never again forgot to give them notice. Thinking of the food, he contacted Neelix.

"How's the menu coming Mr Neelix?"

"It's all prepared according to your specification," Neelix answered. "I've never prepared anything like this before, some of it seems very strange to me."

"I'm sure you've done your best and it'll be fine." the Colonel assured him. Then he turned to his own preparations.

  
  


In his room Neelix examined the strange uniform. The Colonel had asked him to act as senior steward for the night, but had warned him that a uniform would be involved, thinking that it may worry the cheerful little Talaxian. It did indeed seem strange to him. The trousers were black, with a one inch wide red stripe running down the outside of the leg. A white shirt with a high stiff collar came next, along with a black bow tie, (the Colonel had realised the the difficulty the strange item would present to the informal cook and had produced an elasticated item that fitted under the collar perfectly). Over the top of the shirt went a white full length single breasted jacket, which buttoned high on the chest, the buttons themselves were polished silver with a crown moulded upon them. Another crown was embroidered to the corners of the jacket collar. The collar and lapels themselves were scarlet. Fortunately there was no hat. Upon the right sleeve, three black chevrons were attached, pointing downwards. 

Carefully he put it on, then standing in front of the mirror in his room, he snapped himself to attention as he had seen the Colonel do many times, then winced as he smacked his ankles together.

"There is an art to this," he thought. 

He tried again, then standing to attention he rattled a smart salute to himself, "Not as precise as the Colonel's, but acceptable I think." Suddenly he felt very important.

He left his room and hurried to the holodeck to meet the Colonel.

He found him sitting on the Holodeck, nursing a mug of tea.

"Senior Steward Neelix, reporting sir!" Neelix snapped to attention and saluted the amused Colonel.

"Sergeant Neelix, that uniform suits you!" He exclaimed, returning the salute.

"You think so Colonel?" Asked the Talaxian nervously. "My race is not very militaristic and abhor violence!"

"I wouldn't take you into battle, so I'm not asking you to rip the hearts out of my guests with the soup spoons," he laughed. "Besides it makes a mess of the uniform, and dress uniforms are buggers to clean properly!"

Neelix took a closer look at the Colonel, he seemed bigger than normal, then he realised that he was wearing a different hat. 

  
  


The 'guests' started to arrive just before 19:00. Neelix feeling his position, announced them in the way the Colonel had described.

"Hi Neelix," greeted Tom Paris as he entered. "You're involved in this as well?"

"I'm Sergeant Neelix, Senior Steward," he announced sternly.

He turned to the room and shouted as he had been told, "Star Fleet Lieutenant, Tom Paris! Star Fleet Lieutenant, B'Elanna Torres!"

"Good evening Lieutenants," intercepted the Colonel saluting smoothly and shaking their hands, "Glad you joined us, may I introduce my official pilot Flight Lieutenant Tony Archer, he's under a rent a mob contract from the Royal Air Force, but acceptable for all that, and Second Lieutenant Susan Barker, B Company, the 'fixer', they will show you around."

"Star Fleet Ensign Harry Kim!" Announced Neelix.

"Ensign," the Colonel greeted him again with a salute.

"This is a good programme, how did you do it?" Kim asked.

"Not by myself I'm afraid," the Colonel admitted. "I'll show you at some point, but in the mean time may I introduce you to Captain Anne Williams, C Company, she'll be your host for the evening." He showed him to an attractive and athletic looking woman dressed in green.

It went on, each time Neelix announced a guest the Colonel greeted them and matched them to a host he had preselected for the best chance of starting an easy conversation, even the Doctor, who he linked with the Padre.

The Captain arrived with Chakotay.

"Star Fleet Captain, Kathryn Janeway, Commander USS Voyager. Star Fleet Commander Chakotay." Announced Neelix, who was starting to enjoy himself.

"Good evening Neelix," said the Captain as they awaited the Colonel. "Your uniform is smart!"

"I almost wish we had an army on my own world," confessed Neelix, "It really gets you here after a while," he announced tapping his chest proudly.

"Captain?" called the Colonel, smoothly intercepting the conversation.

She examined him and his uniform carefully, suddenly she felt underdressed in her dress Star Fleet Uniform. Working from the bottom were bottle green close fitting trousers with razor sharp creases and a broad black stripe on the outside of the leg. At the top was a bottle green double breasted and tailored jacket with black buttons, it fastened high on the neck with a silver clasp over a polished black leather 'stock' collar, a gold brocade sat on one shoulder and black and silver trimmings finished the jacket off. Over the top was a black leather belt and shoulder strap, polished like patent leather, with a thin silver chain looping from it into his breast pocket. For once he was not wearing the sword, but on his head he was wearing a shako, also polished to a high shine with the regimental crest emblazoned across the front, the tall hat added an extra 12 inches to his already imposing 6'4".

The Colonel noticed the Captain checking him over. "You like the uniform?" He grinned, "Like most British Army dress uniforms, it is a throw back to the Napoleonic Wars, all starch. You look impressive in it, but you can't move, it's where the saying 'a stiff upper lip' came from." He turned around so she could check it out better.

I feel positively scruffy in the face of that! The Captain gasped in awe.

"I thought British soldiers wore red?" Chakotay asked mildly.

"Most did," answered the Colonel. "But the light infantry rifle regiments always wore green, they decided they needed to look different to ordinary line regiments to show their superior status," he explained.

"Is Miss Nine joining us?" He asked, suddenly concerned.

"She'll be along shortly," the Captain assured him, "We went by the Cargo Bay to check. She's suffering from nerves for her first date, thinking she'll be out of place," she laughed.

The Colonel nodded. "Well while we're waiting may I introduce my Adjutants, Majors Kevin Smithe and Bertrum Woodcock. Please make yourselves at home."

"Miss Seven of Nine!" announced Neelix, barely able to take his eyes of the tall blonde.

The Colonel turned, then his mouth dropped in shock at the spectacular apparition.

She stood tall and straight in her new garments, scanning the congregation nervously. Her low cut and strapless gown slinked tightly to her waist. It tucked tight over her waist and hips then bloomed into a wide ruffed skirt, finishing just above the floor. In the light it glimmered in shades of white and gold. She had let her golden hair out of its normal restraints and it had tumbled down to her shoulders, prevented from getting out of control by a single clip, that shone like emerald at the back of her head. Accentuating her long slim neck was a simple black choker with another single green gem in the centre.

"Wow!" Swore the stunned Colonel, "How did you do that?" he asked the smiling Captain, "She looks like a million dollars!" 

He hesitated, "Sorry, that phrase doesn't mean anything now, does it?"

"No, but I get your meaning and I'm not going to tell you, it's a girl thing!" laughed the Captain, pleased she had finally stopped the confident Colonel in his tracks.

The Colonel mentally kicked himself into motion and walked up to her. "Miss Nine, I am fighting the temptation to be as crude as Corporal Miller. I have never seen you so ...", he hesitated, searching for the right word, beautiful, glamorous even gorgeous passed his mind and were rejected, "Radiant! A real Princess!" He finished at last. Gallantly he took and kissed her hand.

"Thank you!" she intoned nervously, "I was unsure of the effect the Captain was attempting to achieve!"

"I think you may safely conclude she achieved it," he said in an awed voice, "You look simply amazing!"

Just then Neelix announced dinner was served.

"Miss Nine, may I escort you to your table?" the Colonel requested formally, holding out his arm.

Seven hesitated, then stated firmly. "That will be acceptable!" She took his arm and held it firmly as he guided her through the ranks to dinner. The whole room watched the elegantly dressed Colonel and the even more stunning blonde walk into the dining room.

Carefully he helped her into her chair, than sat heavily into his own next to her.

"If I didn't know you better Kathryn, I'd say you set Seven up as a man trap for the Colonel," Chakotay whispered to the Captain as they were seated next to each other at the table.

"Yes, they suit each other don't you think?" she whispered back. "Now, what do we do with all the cutlery? We're not going to use it all are we?"

"If we were Ferrengi, steal it I suppose," suggested Chakotay lightly.

Everybody set to to work through their meal and chat comfortably with their guests. Whilst a string quartet played quietly in the background.

As the last plates were cleared, the Colonel stood and tapped his empty glass to draw attention to himself. "Ladies and Gentlemen, as we have guests here who may never have been to a formal Mess Dinner, and before I ask the Padre to lead the evening prayer, I thought I'd better give a short description what these proceedings are about."

"Some of our Star Fleet guests present may think that we, the 60th, are nothing but a bunch of murdering animals, devoid of feeling and humanity. Truth to tell, they could be forgiven for this belief because of the stories I've had to tell them. In fact those stories are taken from my experiences in the Army, and tend to be from concentrated periods of action which are or were interspersed with longer periods of inaction. Between actions and even in the middle of them, we have these little parties to prove that we are still civilised and let our hair down."

"After our evening prayers, I would request all here to stand for the toasts of allegiance and anthem, after which my officers and I will 'sing for their supper', with a short series of sketches. I should warn you that some of them are pretty terrible, but we all need to make a fool of ourselves at some point, better it's in the company of friends. Should any of our guests wish to contribute, then please advise the stewards."

"After the side entertainment, we shall adjourn to the main room, where the regimental band will entertain us with dance music."

"Padre, if you please." The Colonel finished and motioned to the Regiments Padre.

The Captain was watching fascinated by the proceedings. She half listened to the Padre, intoning the old Christian prayer for forgiveness, 'Nobody believed that sort of thing anymore,' She dismissed. Suddenly she was snapped to attention by the Padres new prayer.

"Eternal Father," he started. 

"Guide your lost flock, aboard the Star Ship Voyager. 

Protect her and her crew with your mighty hands. 

Aide her Captain so that she may guide them home, 

that they rejoin their families in joy.

This we ask in Jesus's name.

Amen."

"Amen," she added aloud. She leant towards the Colonel, "You believe this sort of thing?" She asked seriously.

Gravely the Colonel replied, "The first thing you learn in combat, is that to survive, you need all the help you can get. If the Lord, or any other deity, wishes to take a direct hand then I'll pray to them. So far he has taken pity on me."

He stood, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please take your glasses and stand with me for the toasts."

Everybody stood.

"The first is to the Her Majesty the Queen. May God bless and protect her!"

"Our Second, to our friends, the mighty Star Fleet. May God bless and protect them!"

"Our third to the 60th Rifles. May God bless and protect us!"

At each toast the green cloaked men intoned 'Amen!'

Then they stood in silence as the national anthem of the United Kingdom, 'God Save the Queen', was played.

"Now our entertainment, if you would be so good, Sergeant!"

Neelix snapped to attention, "Sir!" He snapped.

"Our first act is the Officers choir and the Regimental song. 'Over the Hills'."

A sad song thought the Captain, full of despair and resignation.

There followed a series of short sketches, of humour, wit and music, each one introduced by Neelix in his new found 'army voice'. It ended with the Colonel, who sang in a full, smooth and rich tenor without accompaniment the song 'When I Fall in Love'. 

It seemed to the Captain, watching carefully, that he was singing it to Seven of Nine. Seven also seemed to realise it, her eyes opening wide, following his every move carefully. The Captain nudged Chakotay, nodded towards them and winked.

Finally, they all left the dining area and returned to the main room, where the Regiments fifteen piece band had set itself up in the corner. It started to play as the diners entered. The band was good, and played a wide spread of music. Finally Harry Kim, who had become immersed with his attractive host, decided to add Star Fleet honours to the music. He approached the Colonel, who was chatting amiably with Seven and the Doctor.

"Excuse me Colonel?" he asked. 

The Colonel turned from the Doctor and raised an eyebrow.

"May I join the band for a tune?" He asked hopefully.

"I'm not actually in charge of the proceedings," he said cheerfully. "But if you care to pass my compliments to the Drum Major, then he may allow you to tune up with them. Good luck, he used to terrify me, a definite man of independent thought." He winked.

Kim did as he was bid, and shortly found he was playing with a borrowed clarinet.

Slowly the music turned to dance, with a waltz coming first.

Major Smithe approached the Captain, "As my Colonel appears to be otherwise engaged, my I offer you this dance Ma'am."

The Captain blushed, "Thank you Major, it's been a long time since I've been to a formal dance," she said as she reached for the offered hand, and was waltzed away. The Colonel had been trying to keep the conversation going with other people, to distract some of the feelings about Seven that were making him uncomfortable. She for her part, was feeling out of place, not wishing to be separated from the sociable Colonel at least until she had the chance of joining another crew member she trusted or simply escaping, kept a firm hold of his arm. He noticed the actions of his Adjutant, it was the one he should of taken himself, by protocol. Kicking himself mentally, he turned back to Seven. 

"Miss Nine, may I offer you the dance?"

"I cannot dance!" She protested hesitantly. Somehow the retort 'Dance is inefficient and serves no useful purpose', which would normally have tripped of the tongue didn't seem to meet the situation.

"Nobody can until they try, just follow me!" he said brightly. Placing an arm around her waist and taking her hand in his, he whisked her away.

It was a signal, each member of the Voyager crew was approached by an officer and taken into the dance.

They were well into the second dance when the Colonel and the Captain bumped into each other.

"Major, may I take your partner?" He asked.

"Sir!" the Major responded, immediately releasing the Captain to the Colonel, kissing her hand as he did so.

Briefly the Captain wondered why the Colonel had abandoned the beautiful Seven of Nine, he had been dancing with to dance with her. He answered her question without it being asked. "Etiquette," he said. "The Colonel's wife must be the first to dance with the distinguished guest, The Colonel dances with guests wife. Besides, Miss Nine requires somebody else other than me to talk to."

The Major bowed before Seven of Nine, who was watching the Captain and the Colonel dance away, feeling a little hurt. Despite herself she had been enjoying the experience.

"Miss Nine, may I continue the dance with you?" He asked gallantly.

"At least we will be able to keep close enough to reclaim him before somebody else does," he offered quietly.

"Yes, I shall comply, thank you," she stuttered.

"I congratulate you Captain," said the Colonel as they danced. "You really floored me having Miss Nine turn up dressed like that!"

"I thought she ought to look special for a first date," she replied confidently. "It's a humanity building exercise."

"For who, her or me?" he asked, with a crooked grin.

"Both," she said firmly. "You both have feelings for each other, but won't admit it. She because she doesn't know what it is, you because you're afraid of it."

He changed the subject. "Apart from your blatant attempt at matchmaking. How are you enjoying our evening?"

"It's splendid. I've never seen anything like it!" She enthused. "Perhaps we should introduce them on the ship?"

"Perhaps, but I used to hate them, until they didn't come along anymore," he admitted.

"You are a very deep man, Colonel," she laughed cheerfully.

At the end of the next dance they swapped partners again. The Colonel returning to Seven. Chakotay swapping her for the Captain.

"You are enjoying this aren't you?" Chakotay commented. "Pleasant surroundings, convivial company and a little mischief on the side. Seven is totally lost, she's hanging onto the Colonel like death. Is your matchmaking wise, somebody may get hurt?"

"Yes I am, and I don't think anybody will get hurt. If they become serious, then good, they need each other. If not it will die slowly. Seven can't be protected for ever." She reasoned.

  
  


The session went on for another three hours, gradually Voyagers crew dropping out through exhaustion. The Captain realised suddenly they had been continually waltzed around the dance floor for over four hours. "No wonder we're exhausted," she thought, "It must be after 03:00, I'm due on duty at 09:00. 

It's time to go!" She nudged Chakotay, together they blearily said goodnight to the Colonel and walked back to Chakotay's quarters.

"Can I offer you a night cap?" He asked teasingly.

The Captain, going onto tip toes, kissed him gently. "I think not, somebody will talk!" She teased, then continued towards the Bridge and her own quarters.

"The Colonel is not the only one who's going to have problems with his emotions," Chakotay thought mildly, entering his quarters.

  
  


When the last of his guests had departed, the Colonel turned to Neelix.

"Thank you for your assistance, Sergeant Neelix, I really couldn't have done it without it," he announced tiredly.

"It's been one of the most fun evenings I've seen in a long time, besides I like the uniform. You must do it again, I've never seen the Captain look so happy." The Talaxian assured him, then he too returned to his quarters.

"Come on Miss Nine. It's time for bed," he said gently lifting her to her feet. As he let her go, she slumped against him.

"Cinders, has spent too long at the ball," he thought, holding her up.

Gently he picked her up and carried her out.

He took her to Cargo Bay 2, and tried to get her to stand in the regeneration alcove, but found he couldn't get the somnambulant girl to stand long enough to set it running. Looking around, he spotted both her normal 'uniform' and a tatty teddy bear, hiding shyly at the back of the alcove. The bay seemed too cold to leave her to sleep on the floor, so he picked up Seven, clothes and teddy, and staggered up to his quarters.

He laid her on his cot, released the tight fastenings on her dress, then gently covered her with his duvet. The catsuit he hung from a hook on the wall. He turned to check his unwitting guest. She had rolled onto her side and curled up. One arm reaching off the bed. Gently he put the teddy bear under her arm. He smiled and kissed her forehead, she looked so vulnerable and beautiful, "Like a child", he thought.

He drew up a comfy chair, leaned back and took her slender hand loosely in his. He too drifted off to sleep.

  
  


Seven stirred. Confused and disorientated, from the unusual situation of having slept naturally in unfamiliar surroundings, she tried to work out where she was. Groggily, she saw in the dim lighting a shadow of a dark figure, reclined on a chair by her bed, it appeared to be holding her hand on its knee. Without thinking, she snatched it back. The figure stirred but didn't awaken.

She examined her surrounds carefully. She was sure she was on Voyager, she could hear the low subdued hum of the ships engines. "Not above deck 3," she thought. 

The window near the bed leaned forward towards her, "Not below deck 5," she reasoned. 

Suddenly she recognised the curtains. Only one person on the vessel had insisted on putting up curtains and drawing them at night!

"Computer increase lighting to 30%," she demanded quietly. Then she saw the Colonel properly. He had undone the collar of his dress uniform and had removed his shoes, but was otherwise fully dressed, his head tilted back uncomfortably, mouth open, breathing quietly.

Sensing no danger, she gently placed her hand on top of his and laid still, watching him curiously.

She didn't have long to wait. As the chronometer on the far wall changed to read 5:30AM, he snapped awake. Disorientated by his uncomfortable position, he automatically looked around and started as his eye alighted on Seven of Nine, who was watching him from her pillow.

Quickly he regained his composure, and lost it again when he remembered why she was in his quarters. 

"Good Morning, Miss Nine!" He stammered, embarrassed. 

"It'll take more than ripping Neelix's ears off to stop this going around the ship like a bush fire," he thought.

"I'm awfully sorry about this, but you were too far gone to stand last night. I couldn't work out how to get your alcove to work. I didn't think it right to leave you on the floor, so I brought you here," he rushed. 

"You're babbling, you fool, get a grip of yourself!" He thought.

She sat up, amused at the Colonels discomfort. "Your apology is acceptable," she stated, then flushed herself as the top of her dress started to slip. Quickly she pulled the duvet up to her neck. "You released, my clothing!" she accused.

The Colonel had even more rapidly turned away, correctly guessing what would happen if she sat up quickly.

"It was necessary," he stated. "The bodice was too tight to sleep in comfortably," he continued, finding comfort in talking to the wall, rather than Seven of Nine. 

"Your normal clothing is hanging in the alcove, I shall leave you to dress in comfort," he announced.

"Your departure is unnecessary," she assured him.

"For you, perhaps, and our reputations are probably already shot to hell. But for my peace of mind, it most certainly is!" He replied heavily and left.

He strolled down to the Cargo Bay 2, Seven of Nine's normal quarters, and looked around. The bay consisted of numerous containers, the Borg Alcove, and a computer terminal. Apart from a spare suit and the teddy bear now in his quarters, she had no personal belongings. 

"It's not right for a young woman to be in these conditions," he thought. He felt from his limited intimate experience of young women, it most unnatural. Disturbed by the absence of anything personal in her life, he returned to his room.

  
  


Seven had watched him go with mixed emotions. Part of her wished she had never let the Captain talk her into going to the Party, another wished that the Colonel had stayed with her, rather than leave the room, neither had been satisfied. She had dressed up to stun the Colonel, as the Captain had prescribed; monopolised his attentions all evening; even spent the night in his room, even if he had slept uncomfortably in a chair. "Why?" She wondered, "What was the purpose of my actions." 

Apart from a certain level of embarrassment, he had shown little emotion. "It is almost as if he is ashamed," she thought. 

Slowly she removed the gown she was still wearing, even in the cold light of morning, it felt special, it was a pity it would have to be recycled, she decided. Then put her own clothes on.

"Maybe he will be reactive, when he returns," she thought, without much hope. A germ of an idea formed in her mind.

  
  


When the Colonel returned, he found Seven sat at the table waiting. She had produced breakfast! Carefully programming the replicator to produce a meal that was not quite perfect- the tea was stewed, the toast scorched on one side, the porridge lumpy, in short the way he seemed to prefer it.

"You should have your meal in your room. Neelix will be late opening the canteen this morning," she announced calmly.

"Miss Nine you will make somebody a wonderful wife!" He declared, touched at her efforts and in awe at her skills with the replicator.

"It is merely the correct application of programming," she asserted. "Something you will achieve, should you decide to apply your mind," she added, with the some of her usual disdain.

"None the less, I am very grateful."

"You require sustenance, you will eat," she ordered.

"Yes Ma'am," he smiled at the command.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she watched him eat. "Why did you bring me here, if not for gratification?"

He looked up, surprised that she should even ask the question. "One thing I had drummed into me as a young soldier, and I've drummed into the men under me, is to always attempt to behave impeccably, to protect, not to take advantage of others who need protection," he explained laying down his spoon.

"There was no way I could leave you in the dungeon that is the Cargo Bay. Nor is there anyway that I would take advantage of you, even if that meant I slept out in the corridor!" He continued.

He paused, trying to come to a decision, then slid from his chair into a kneeling position in front of her.

"Miss Nine, I'm afraid I have fallen in love with you," he admitted, casting his eyes downwards as if in shame.

He looked up again before continuing. "Worse than that, I've fallen deeper than anything I've ever known and I don't know how to get out again. If you wish to accept it or even return it, I'd think you mad, as I have nothing to offer you except a broken heart in the future; But I will be pathetically pleased. If you wish to reject it, then you would be much wiser than me, but I will still protect you till my dying breath." 

He looked hard into her blue eyes, watching them widen in astonishment. 

He had said it, he felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders.

Seven of Nine silently got up and walked out the room. 

The Colonel sighed, "Too much, too soon," he thought wistfully and took the plates back to the replicator for recycling. 

He picked up the teddy bear and held it as sat back in a chair, watching the Universe pass by the window, "What do you think I should do now?" He asked it absentmindedly.

  
  


Seven of Nine was uncertain how she should react to his announcement. Walking out seemed to be the most appropriate as a whirlwind of emotions hit her. His admission had thrown her own thoughts into sharp relief, she needed time to organise them before deciding on the next step.

Blindly she followed the corridors towards her Cargo Bay. Entering she gazed blankly at the coldly unwelcoming platform of the regeneration alcove, her refuge. But it did not try to understand her, or provide the comfort and protection she had felt the night before when she had been holding him. It simply regenerated her Borg implants and allowed her to hide for a short while. She had never realised she used it like that, a place to hide from... loneliness.

It was not going to give her an answer to her current confusion. 

She knew she had feelings' for the man that had unconditionally offered his love' to her. But she did not understand them or their meaning, they were new and frightening. She found those feelings were also illogically desirable and he was offering comfort and understanding. She desperately wanted help, but did not know who to turn to.

He had described the cargo bay as a dungeon', it suddenly felt like an apt title. It was cold, lonely and unwelcoming. She turned on her heel and marched out again.

  
  


Fifteen minutes later the door to the Colonels quarters chimed.

"Come in Captain!" called the Colonel in resignation, getting up to receive his expected visitor.

He was ready to be lectured about his improper conduct.

He was taken by surprise when Seven of Nine stepped in. "I do not wish to return to the Cargo Bay!" She announced simply, stalking over to him and putting her arms around him. Laying her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes, feeling those same desirable feelings she had had the night before. Warm, safe and comfortable. 

Gently he lifted her chin with one hand and kissed her firmly, feeling her return it. The other arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. "Consider my quarters yours. I hope we don't grow to regret your decision," he breathed heavily.

  
  


The Captain gazed at her semi-comatose staff with a barely disguised smile of benevolence. Of the ten people gathered for the daily meeting, only Seven of Nine and the Colonel looked as alert as normal. "I assume you all feel like you look?" She asked.

There was general ascent from the room.

"And you enjoyed the experience?"

Again nods from the room, wondering where she was going.

"Good, how about another one in a months time?" She suggested. "But with the crew instead of the Colonel's men?"

Everybody sat up, a hint of enthusiasm showing through the tiredness.

"I expect people to provide sketches, similar to last nights!" she warned.

"Sounds good," voted Harry Kim, can we borrow the Colonels musicians. He had got on well with a young flautist in the band, and had enjoyed trying to match the precision of the holographic military band.

"Can I use the Uniform?" asked Neelix.

"I'm sure you and the Colonel will arrange what you want."

"Ma'am," the Colonel acknowledged gruffly. "I would recommend optional dress, for regular dinners. Leave the starch for special occasions with company," he suggested mildly.

"Agreed, and a lighter meal as well," she smiled.

  
  


After the meeting was adjourned, Seven remained.

"Rumour has it Seven, you spent the night in the Colonels quarters. Have you anything to tell me? I hope there was no impropriety?" She accused mischievously. 

"Captain!" She said, haughtily ignoring the accusation. "The Colonel slept in a chair. He declared love for me this morning."

"I rather expected he might admit it, sooner or later. What did you do?" The Captain smiled.

"I believe, I accepted. We kissed and embraced," she answered levelly.

The Captain paused for thought.

"You've come a long way in a very short period, I hope you never regret it," the Captain declared, happy that Seven would now find someone that would find more time to respond and care for her than she could.

"That is what he said, I am not sure I understand the meaning?"

"I hope you never have to!" the Captain assured her.

"I have returned the dress, so that you may recycle it," Seven declared, holding up a carry-all with the fateful gown inside.

"I think you had better keep it, you may need it again," she suggested. "I intend to give you stiff opposition for attention at the next party!"

"Thank you Captain," said the relieved Seven. 

The Captain sighed, reflectively. "In different circumstances, I might have scratched your eyes out for his attentions. He is almost everything I ever wanted, tall, handsome, kind, strong, protective, intelligent and good company. You are very lucky, take good care of it. You two suit each other perfectly."

"Captain?" Seven questioned.

"You had better get on back to the Colonel, before somebody else try's to catch him."

"They will fail," Seven said haughtily.

"I know!" The Captain said softly, as she watched Seven leave, head high, with her party dress in its bag.

  
  


  
  


  


   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



	5. 1-05 Quake

**1-05 Quake**

  


_In which Voyagers crew embark on two diplomatic missions to trade for supplies. The Colonel and his team are involved in a natural disaster and help prevent the destruction of a race._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail _[_story@rgower.plus.com_][1]_._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway._

_This story is rated PG _

  
  


The Captain hurried down the corridor en-route to Holodeck 2, in response to a strange request from Seven of Nine. 

Since the Colonel had joined them, both she and Chakotay had discovered that he had a mark on almost every member of the crew. Disputes, natural in a small vessel between people cooped up for long periods with no where to go, had all but dried up. He had started exercising on a Holodeck, and there was invariably sufficient crew interested in joining him that it had been made a regular fixture of the ships daily calendar and he had welcomed their presence. She had even been an attendee at some of them and had come out exhausted, but strangely content. The same had happened to the ships mess menu. Since he had started helping out Neelix with recipes and preparation tips, the freshly prepared food menu had become more varied and edible, some of the crew had started to eat in the mess from choice. Even Seven had been affected, she was a lot more sensitive to those around her than before he had declared his love to her.

The Captain was not sure what was happening between Seven and the Colonel. Seven of Nine was no longer a regular visitor to her quarters, attempting to find answers to questions of humanity, but seemed to be finding her own independent answers. It was known that Seven of Nine was spending much of her off duty time in the Colonels company simply talking to the tall soldier from history. The Colonel had claimed some sort of confessional was being conducted, but had refused to offer any further illumination. They had certainly kept their discussions private, she had spent several nights in the Colonels quarters, and had emerged the following morning relaxed and by Seven of Nine's standards remarkably happy, the normally dapper Colonel looking tired and slightly dishevelled, but denying vigorously that anything other than a conversation had occurred, nobody had the courage to dispute the claim. The few times they had been spotted showed them both sat beside each other deep in conversation, with him holding her hand, watching her face intently. They had broken apart quickly and he had gave the eavesdropper a look that could have frozen Nitrogen, forcing them to retreat hurriedly. The obvious facts were that Seven was now a lot more independent and confident in her actions, open with her feelings and opinions and no longer scurried away to her alcove in the cargo bay when no longer on duty. It was a remarkable transformation, she allowed herself a private congratulation for having put the two together, they seemed to form a perfect partnership of support and protection.

The only cloud to cause concern was the Colonel himself, not that he was forming an undercover coup. Not even the ever suspicious Tuvok would dream of suggesting that! But for the simple fact that they both knew that under the easy going exterior and seemingly inexhaustible enthusiasm, there was a raging inferno of emotions, they had shown briefly during the Vordun Affair a few months ago, when the entire bridge crew had been kidnapped and he had set about their rescue. Then it had been a controlled release, she was worried at what would happen if it became uncontrolled.

She met Seven of Nine outside the holodeck, the normally implacable Ex-Borg was clearly upset.

"Captain, I recreated a scene from his days on Earth. I thought it may help him to relax in more familiar surroundings, but I believe he has modified the parameters. It now looks like a war, and he turned off the safety overrides, he may damage himself," she explained in a rush, "Shall I call security to restrain him."

"Is he being violent?" she asked.

"Not yet."

It's all right Seven, I'm sure you did your best. As for him hurting himself, well if the worst the Delta Quadrant can throw at him couldn't stop him what can?" She smiled encouragingly. "Come back in thirty minutes, you'll see it's all right."

She took a deep breath and entered. Seven was right, the place was like a war zone! The replication looked like a bar room brawl in full swing. Forty or fifty men, in at least three different uniforms, were in full swing, there were at least six broken tables and chairs littering the floor along with four bodies prostrate on the ground. At a table against the wall four more men were incongruously playing cards amongst the noise. In the corner, hammering a battered upright piano sat the Colonel, playing a tune she didn't recognise. Amazingly he was dressed casually in an open necked check shirt instead of his uniform, she had never seen him dressed like that before. 

He finished the tune he was playing, then without turning, stated in a sharp voice, "Computer freeze programme." 

Then in his more normal tones, "Good evening Captain, welcome to the British Army Open Club, Belize."

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, curious.

"Miss Nine left as soon as the fight broke out, it was a reasonable assumption that she called you. Then I heard you walk across the floor."

"You heard me in all that noise?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I don't believe you?" she challenged.

He shrugged, "Well there was also your reflection in the glass on the piano," he admitted.

"What happened?"

"Miss Nine made the error of including foreign, particularly American Marines, I think she took twentieth century literature too literally."

"You didn't change the parameters?" she questioned.

"Didn't need to, she was very accurate," he stated glibly.

"But you did remove the safeties?"

"After she left, yes. Even as holograms I won't proxy the dangers facing my men," he intoned.

"Okay, go on," she prompted.

"The Marine Staff Sergeant here," he kicked a body, "Started by making improper suggestions to Miss Nine, suggesting that she was much too attractive to be dating a 'Tommy'."

"That started it?" she asked, knowing full well the Colonel's protective nature towards Seven of Nine.

"No! That's the truth, and she is quite capable of making her own decisions," he admitted, "Then he suggested that I was a mad bastard."

"That started it?" she asked incredulously.

"No, that's true as well. He then described my men a useless bunch of ex-cons, and not worth the space."

"And that started it?" She asked impatient now.

"Yes! Whilst it was true," he admitted again, "It was a very sore point. So Sergeant Cooper hit the useless fat idiot. He's never set foot out of the States before, let alone onto a battlefield, but thinks he's General Paton. Went out like a light. After that it got a little out of hand, and the Sergeant Major took over," he indicated a large man, even bigger than the Colonel, who had apparently picked up two of the Marines by their lapels and was banging them together like cymbals, "He was always very protective," he commented, "Life sentence for killing the man that killed his brother."

She laughed weakly. "Seven thought war had broken out!" she moaned.

"It's a serious matter of honour," he protested, "Miss Nine is a wonderful girl, but she misses the point at times."

"Those people over there," he pointed to the card players in disgust, "Are British SAS, they won't get involved unless their game is interrupted. Very intent, good soldiers, useless in a brawl, go out like a light," he commented.

"How would it have ended?" she asked fascinated.

"Usually, six arrests, two hospitalised, and a mix of bruises for the court the next day, then a weeks pay, jankers and extra exercises for my men."

"Shouldn't you of stopped it?" surprised at the loss of control the Colonel had allowed to occur.

"I could have, and perhaps should have. But if you do that it will start again, probably off the base, then civilians get hurt. Here it is contained, no serious damage is done and the Americans learn their first lesson in respect for their teachers."

"Wouldn't you have got in trouble for letting it start?"

"Probably, but I'm very rarely involved, I pick up the pieces later. If you look around there is a full company of Marines here, facing maybe a dozen British troops, and they're being pasted. Embarrassment goes a long way towards preventing loud complaints."

"Remarkable men, led by a remarkable man," she commented softly.

"Have you noticed that the things you miss most about a previous life are the things you disliked most, when their taken away?" he asked, changing the subject suddenly.

"No," she answered taken aback by the sudden change of direction.

"Perhaps. But then you haven't lost much of anything yet. I miss the monthly formal Officers Mess Dinner, the occasional good natured brawl. I hated them all, until now."

"What else do you miss?" she asked gently.

"My men," he answered firmly. "Criminals every one of them, but the best soldiers and most loyal people I've ever commanded."

He changed tack again.

"What do you think you will be doing when Voyager returns to Earth?"

"I don't know," she answered, suddenly on the defensive.

"I suspect you'll be famous for a while, then disappear into obscurity with Chakotay," he answered for her. "If you'll only admit it, you have feelings for him," he waved down her protest.

"I fear both Miss Nine's and my fates are well sealed, she will be put on the scientists circuit as a prize exhibit, explaining what a Borg is. I'll be anthropology's dream come true, they'll probably put me on display in a zoo behind big signs saying 'Do Not Feed the Caveman'."

"They won't do that!" she replied defensively, making a mental note not to let it happen.

"Won't they?" He asked, "Your looking at a man who still has problems writing on a PADD and as for the replicators. I went to one of Naomi's lessons the other day, do you know what the subject was? It was Cell Replication, with the Doctor. I barely understood a word of it. At her age I was still learning my multiplication tables!"

"She is a gifted child," offered the Captain, desperately.

He nodded, "I thought that, then I looked at the standard syllabus. If it hadn't have been for Miss Nine's teachings I wouldn't have understood the titles, let alone the subjects!"

"Face it Captain, I don't really belong! When I was born electronic computers hadn't been invented, The PADD's you use as notepads are a million times more powerful than the computers that NASA used to put man on the moon. The moon was as far as we had got! I'm now on a space ship fifty thousand light years from home and people are talking of a mere thirty years to get there. At home the speed of sound was still a good trick!"

She sat dumbfounded by the outburst, she could not think of a thing to placate the seemingly desperate man.

"You have many good attributes," she said desperately.

"But few of them really useful," he pointed out.

"And you have Seven of Nine!" She rallied.

"My greatest and only asset, if it were true," he admitted wistfully.

She thought for a moment, made up her mind and changed the subject, as Seven of Nine entered.

"I need your help," she announced.

"Captain?" He questioned.

"This sector has two dominant races, the Kellor's and the Desduron's. We have been invited to both home planets, and we need supplies. I want you and Seven to take an away party to Kellor to establish relations and attempt to trade for food. I'll handle the Desdurons."

"Are you sure Ma'am?" He asked, "I'm not noted for diplomacy!"

"You'll do fine" She assured him."Besides there is nobody else, Tuvok, Neelix and Harry Kim will be with me, Chakotay is needed on the ship, that leaves you with B'Elanna Torres, Tom Paris and Seven."

"Ma'am," He acknowledged the order impassively.

  
  


"Let me see if I've got this right." the Colonel said, as the shuttle was pitched and yawed ready for the sixteen hour flight to Kellor.

"The Kellors are a race with two legs and four arms, multifaceted eyes and horizontal mandibles. A sort of cross between a human and an ant?"

"There is no cross breeding," Seven of Nine assured him.

"I hope they don't look as bad as some of the films I saw on Earth in the fifties. I won't know whether to scream in terror or fall about in laughter," he claimed candidly.

"Neither would be appropriate," Seven pointed out coolly.

"Okay, what else. There is a cast system, like ants. Big red skinned ones are warrior cast. Small Black ones are workers and the big black ones do almost everything else. They have no warp drive capability. But do use ion drives for limited space exploration in their local area, hence the reason for meeting the Desduron's and occasional other space vessels like us. They are generally well organised and peaceful, except when talking about Desduron's. With whom they have had a number of disagreements, those were largely settled by a one hundred year treaty, that has now been in force for a good deal longer. They have established mutual trade and culture agreements sustained by weekly packet ships between the two planets. A certain amount of animosity still exists between the two races, kept in check by mutual sharing agreements. Hence the reason for the Captain wishing to send two parties to meet them at the same time. It seems to me a case of the open right hand of diplomacy, with a damned big club in your left behind your back, to me."

"Essentially, you are correct. There is a potential for starting conflict between the two races, if not handled delicately," agreed Seven.

"Then why did the Captain send me? I'm more noted for being a bull in a china shop than a ballerina tiptoeing through a flower bed," He asked uncertainly.

"I do not know. Perhaps she believes they will fall down laughing when they see you, because of their early film shows," suggested Seven, uncharacteristically mischievous.

"Very droll," he replied, "I'm going to have to talk to the doctor about your sense of humour, it is getting quite catty." He caught her hand and kissed it gently.

The comment earned him her favoured arched eyebrow, he loved that eyebrow. 

B'Elanna Torres, had been watching the show from her seat next to Tom Paris, with some amusement. Now she found herself in the unusual role of confidence builder.

"I think your abilities as diplomat run much deeper than you think, certainly the Captain thinks so, Colonel," she called.

"Thank you, for your vote of confidence Lieutenant," he replied. 

"Now as travelling by shuttle tends to be rather dull, I shall go to sleep. Give us a kick when we arrive," he announced.

He leant his head back and dropped off.

"How does he do that?" Asked Tom Paris from the pilots seat, one of life's twisters in bed.

"I have noticed he can sleep at any point, but will wake immediately if the situation changes. We had an appointment on the Holodeck last week. I was late and found him asleep, but he awoke before I could get near him," volunteered Seven of Nine.

"He heard you!" suggested Torres.

"No! There was too much noise, and I deliberately attempted to catch him unawares. He felt my presence," Seven suggested uncomfortably.

  
  


The Colonel awoke as the shuttle reduced power for the descent onto Kellor. 

"Can you do a couple of quiet orbits before we announce ourselves please, Lieutenant?" He asked Tom Paris. "It never does to jump in to battle without looking. No matter how friendly the enemy appear," he suggested by way of explanation.

"Aye, Sir!" Paris intoned as he set the shuttle into a low orbit of the planet.

"What can you tell us about the planet, Miss Nine?" he asked.

Seven of Nine bent to the sensor display, whilst the Colonel watched through the windows.

The planet looked almost barren. High mountains, mostly snow covered, with the occasional dark peak of a volcano dominated the Northern hemisphere. The Southern appeared to be largely desert. The equatorial regions though appeared to be lush greenery.

"Size approximately 10% larger than Earth, gravity approximately the same. One planet day 25 hours, solar year 400 days. Temperature spread from -60 to 50 degrees Celsius at opposite poles. There is a strong Sulphur element to the atmosphere, due to a high level of volcanic activity, it may cause problems. Two hundred major cities, mainly located north of the equator and underground. Population about 2 billion. No indication of nuclear energy in use, but many geothermal plants," she described.

"Thank you, Miss Nine. It's not as bad as it looks then," he stated.

"We are being hailed, voice only," called Tom Paris.

"Very good, put it on please Lieutenant," replied the Colonel, resuming his seat.

"Space port Kellor City, to unidentified vessel. Identify yourself and state your intentions," came a voice over the communicator.

"This is Lieutenant Colonel Samuels, representing the Federation Exploration Ship Voyager. I understand we are expected," he announced to the communicator.

"You are. We welcome Voyager. Do you wish to discuss landing requirements?"

"Yes please! Discuss them with my pilot, Lieutenant Paris," he replied, nodding to the lieutenant.

As Paris and ground control made their arrangements, the shuttle descended towards the planet.

"The port is about 2,000 kilometres north of the equator and we have a reception committee arriving to greets us," he announced.

"Very good, signal Voyager, with the arrangements."

"Aye, Sir!" Paris responded.

"Anybody bring their ski's and thermal undies?" The Colonel asked, looking at the approaching snow capped mountains.

The space port was set on a wide plateau above the planets first city. As the shuttle settled, it's crew scanned the surrounds. Several craft were visible. They all appeared to be variations on the theme of space plane. One was set up on a railway track, the track bending upwards at the end. 

"That almost looks familiar," the Colonel announced. The others looked at him curiously, surprised at the sudden display of knowledge.

"Sorry!" He said, "When the Americans were looking at high altitude, high speed aircraft in the late fifties and early sixties, they had a series of experimental aircraft called the 'X' craft. Many were launched by firing the aircraft down a railway track like that," he pointed at the railway. "A British aircraft builder, even proposed a reusable rocket and ramjet powered space plane named Hotol in the late seventies, that would have been launched the same way, then land as a conventional aircraft. It looks as though these people have actually developed the technology!" He continued.

"It is inefficient," claimed Seven pointedly.

"Compared to banging anti-matter together, I suppose it is. But compared to throwing several hundred tonnes of metal in the air, that you never get back, I'd say it was pretty good, wouldn't you?" He asked gently. 

Together they stepped off the shuttle, the Colonel slightly in the lead, to meet a small party that was arriving in a wheeled vehicle. The smell of sulphur hit the Colonel as he met the air, it almost made him retch. He steadied himself against the door frame, taking his time to adjust to the noxious fumes. "It smells a bit strong out here. I think breathers may be advisable," he commented to his crew. Then stepped down to meet a tall figure that was approaching them.

"Greetings, human." Hissed the figure, "I am Senate Councillor Karldoric, I have been assigned the task of looking after you. You are?"

The figure was draped in a thick coat to ward off the chill of the air. It made it difficult to define the shape. Apart from the head, which did indeed look like an ants, right down to two short antenna protruding from it's forehead, the being could have passed for a human in poor light. The mandibles of his mouth could be seen moving and they appeared to work independently.

The Colonel took a breath, then wished he hadn't as the fumes hit his lungs. He coughed, then managed to speak. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Alan Samuels, representing the Federation ship Voyager," he spoke quietly, trying to breath as shallowly as possible. He continued, "I am at your service Sir." He saluted and bowed to the tall figure, then coughed again.

"I see you are troubled by our atmosphere," it sounded amused. "Come, we shall take you somewhere where you will be more comfortable."

"Thank you Sir!" The Colonel said with relief. "It is somewhat pungent," he admitted.

The creature issued a sound like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. The Colonel hoped it was laughter. "The presence of Sulphur in our atmosphere is natural Colonel. This is quite an active planet," it explained.

"We have brought masks to wear that will keep the worst of the fumes from us." The Colonel explained, in gasps. "But I would rather not wear them if it is possible to be comfortable. I have found it hard in the past to be open with someone you cannot see properly."

The figure inspected him. The Colonel sensed rather than saw the tentacles flash past him, he stood still, waiting.

"Your race puts much store in it's ability to see clearly. We have no need to see, we can feel them. You are an honourable and brave person, Colonel," again the rasp of sandpaper.

They all boarded the transport, which they saw resembled a tram. It set off quietly for the city below, disappearing into a long tunnel.

The presence of Sulphur in the air was much reduced, and the landing party thankfully recovered. The Councillor Karldoric removed it's outer robes and stood before them, about 7' tall by the Colonels reckoning. He did indeed have four arms, they projected two either side, from deep shoulders, one arm set behind the other.

Recovered, the Colonel introduced his crew, "Sir, may I introduce my colleagues, Miss Seven of Nine, Science Officer, Lieutenant Torres, Senior Engineering Officer and Lieutenant Paris, Our Pilot and Navigation Officer." Each in turn bobbed a bow as they were introduced, taking their lead from the Colonel.

"You are most welcome," it hissed. "Tell me Colonel, these people are all dressed differently to you, is there a reason for this?"

The Colonel decided to be honest or nearly so. "To be honest Sir, we serve three different branches of the Federation's Star Fleet. Miss Nine is a civilian, engaged with the exploration activities of the ship. The Lieutenants serve the ship and its support. I serve in the army, as a protector to those who need it."

"You are not a diplomat?" He inquired.

"Not as such, Sir."

The Councillor accepted the answers at face value, without probing deeper. The tram pulled to a stop outside a doorway. 

"Come," the Councillor announced. "You must be tired after your journey. We have quarters prepared for you."

They followed the swaying figure through the door and down stairs to another set which it opened impressively.

"I believe you will be comfortable here," he hissed. "We have removed almost all the Sulphur from the air for your comfort, and will provide food shortly. In concern for your safety in our atmosphere, I recommend you stay here until you become more acclimatised."

"I don't think he entirely trusts us," commented the Colonel, as the door closed firmly behind them. "But then neither would I in the same position. I wonder if they serve tea?" He settled on a settle near the centre of the room.

The others examined the room more thoroughly. It was a large lounge, with half a dozen comfortable settles, a table and some chairs, a sideboard occupied one wall, in which a range of bottles of liquid and crockery was kept. The walls were plain white, with a couple of murals etched in to make up for the lack of windows. Four bedrooms led off from the lounge, each was basically but comfortably equipped with two wide beds, a vanity unit and a bathroom. A couple of extra doors were also present in the lounge, but were locked.

"It looks like a standard diplomatic accommodation centre, simple comfortable, remote and bugged to hell." The Colonel suggested as they returned and sat on the seats, he hadn't moved from his. "I assume you failed to get through to Voyager?" He asked Tom Paris.

"No," he admitted. "But we are quite deep underground."

"There were no listening devices," announced Seven.

"They'll be there somewhere," he assured her.

"Never mind," the Colonel continued, "We have no hidden secrets of state to give away, so let us make the best of what we have. Anything interesting amongst the bottles?"

"I didn't check that closely," answered Torres.

"I don't know! Space explorers to a person and you don't check out the local produce!" He got up and investigated the bottles, smelling the contents cautiously. Finally he found some to his satisfaction, picked up four glasses and brought the lot over. 

"Unless my nasal organs have been burned to a crisp in the fumes, I believe that this is Metheglin, though it might be wise to run the tricorder over it to make sure there is nothing else in it," he announced.

"What is Metheglin?" asked Paris.

The Colonel sighed. "So advanced! So ignorant!" He thought sadly. 

"Metheglin is a drink fermented from honey like Mead, but spiced. A good one is very smooth and very potent. I haven't had any for years! As these are diplomatic quarters, I expect this one to be very good. So I've brought some cordial for Seven, knowing what she is like with alcohol!"

The tricorder showed that the principle ingredient was indeed honey. The Colonel tasting it and announced it good. So they all took a small glass and tried it, savouring its characteristic spicy flavour and the sweet and warm honey after taste and also announced it good.

The door opened and two Kellors pushing a trolley entered with the Councillor. "You are making yourselves at home, good. I see you are tasting our local drink Marathon, it's made from fermenting a sugary food supply created by insects, very pleasant, but very potent."

The Colonel jumped up, "Sir, on my home world we have a very similar drink called Metheglin, sadly it is rarely made these days, my colleagues have never tasted it before."

"Then they have missed much," the Councillor rasped, "Come, it is time to try some more of our produce, perhaps you will be able to identify more of it with your home world."

They all sat to the table and started to eat. The food seemed to largely consist of mushrooms, but each type had a distinct flavour and texture. At last they all sat back. 

"I always thought that mushrooms were a rather bland fungus, full of goodness perhaps, but dull," announced the Colonel. "Now I wonder what I've been missing."

The Councillor rasped. "Perhaps we can let you take some different varieties with you when you leave," he announced. 

"Now please tell me your story of how you came to this sector of space?"

"For that, I will have to ask Lieutenants Paris and Torres to recite. They have been with Voyager longer than either Miss Nine or myself," the Colonel announced. "If you would be so kind Mr Paris?"

Tom Paris took a deep breath and started the edited story of Voyagers trail through the Delta Quadrant.

At the end the Councillor asked, "You have seen planets similar to this?"

"I have identified nine within twelve light years of here," announced Seven of Nine coolly. "We took little interest. They offered nothing of value to our needs."

"Why do you ask Sir?" The Colonel asked, curious.

"If we return to the settles, I shall explain. Then you may see how you may be of service to us!" The Councillor hissed.

They returned to their seats and the Councillor began. "As you have noticed, this planet is volcanically very active. Over the last twenty cycles it has become much worse, to the point where even we cannot go outside for long periods, because of the air. Some of our scientists believe that in fifty cycles, we may not be able to go outside at all. Others have suggested that the planet may actually destroy itself!"

"How?" Asked the Colonel, "As I understand it, planets normally become less active as they age, especially if they are to develop life of some form."

"Again there is no agreement on this, but some claim it is the result of the extended usage of the geo-thermal generators we use, cooling the planets core unevenly."

"Perhaps you will allow Lieutenant Torres to look at some of you plants? She may be able to provide proof, or at least make them more efficient and give you time." The Colonel suggested mildly.

"Thank you! But it may have gone too far for that!" The Councillor hissed, "We believe that the planet is doomed to die, either slowly poisoning itself or exploding. We need to relocate, but we do not have the technology to find another planet in time. There are some in the Senate who advocate a final war with the Desdurons to take their planet. But that is a war we cannot win."

"Nor would it help. You will need their help for any mass move, and you'll not get it if you're at war." Stated the Colonel calmly.

"Exactly what I believe," hissed the excited Kellorn. "We need your technologies to help move our people to a new world!"

Everybody sat quietly reflecting.

Finally the Colonel said slowly and quietly. "If it were up to me, I would give you all the technology available on Voyager. But we both know that wouldn't help. Either, you would destroy yourselves in six months learning how it all works, or go to war with Desdur in a month. Yes, I am aware of your treaties, but they wouldn't work with such major advances."

"I understand, Colonel," the Councillor hissed disappointed.

"Fortunately it isn't up to me! So I'll tell you what the Captain will accept. As Miss Nine has said there are a number of planets within a dozen light years of here that are similar. Without referring to her records, we cannot say which, if any are going to be suitable. But I believe we can arrange to take exploration parties to the most likely candidates, the distances are not great at warp speeds. Obviously we will give you the relevant charting data. In the mean time, our engineering crews will examine your geo-thermal plants and ion drives to see if we can improve their performance with enhancements of our own, that will buy you time. I know there are several people on our ship who cut their teeth on ion drives, so we should be able to do something. She may accept the idea of taking advance parties to your chosen new world to start the required construction work, but that will depend upon how long it takes to decide upon a planet, we want to get home as well. Moving 2 billion people is a big undertaking, so we may be able to give advice on how to build large ships that don't disintegrate in flight, perhaps using some of our shield technology. Physically building the vessels to get your population there will have to come from yourselves and possibly the Desdurons. If you can get them to help."

"Now how does that sound, is there an agreement, or should we go home now!" He finished.

"Your offer, is much better than I expected. I had wished for the designs for your warp drive. But you are wise to rule it out, we would go to war if we had it." The Councillor hissed. "I shall take your proposals to the Council tomorrow and I shall provide guides so you may see our city."

"Thank you Councillor. I will tell you that I made it a rule years ago not to negotiate, I find it wastes time and muddies the water. What I have offered is ours to give, there is nothing else! We will need to communicate with Voyager, to let them know our offer," the Colonel announced.

"I shall arrange it in the morning, the Sulphur clouds are down now, it is too dangerous for you to venture out of the city." With that the Councillor rose and left them.

"That went rather well, I think. If only human politicians were as open and honest!" He said mildly.

"You honestly believe the Captain will give them what you've said?" asked Torres.

"Most of it costs nothing but time, the improvements to their drives should be fairly minimal, and above all the Captain loves a disaster story, especially one she can prevent. Yes, she'll accept it. After we've talked to the ship. If you and Miss Nine, could have a look at their geo-thermal plants to see if you can get more for less from them we will be showing our willing. In the mean time I'm going to bed!"

"Oh! Mr Paris, you did lock the doors of the shuttle when we left, didn't you?" He asked as an afterthought.

"Yes Sir!" Paris replied promptly, "buttoned up tight."

"Good! Well goodnight everybody."

As he settled down he heard Tom and B'Elanna enter the room next to his. He smiled. "Any opportunity for them. That will mean Seven will be entering this room in about four minutes," he thought. "Well you did say your room is hers, at least she has a bed of her own this time." 

Since he had told her about his love, she had grown to dislike spending long periods in the cargo bay, preferring now to use the Colonels quarters whenever she could. The Colonel had even replicated a cupboard for her to use for her limited belongings. If he came in to find the beautiful woman on his bed, he would simply sigh and make himself as comfortable as he could in one of the rooms chairs. There was never any impropriety involved. 

This time was different, he found out with a start, he heard her enter and remove her suit. That was reasonable he thought, "It must stink of sulphur as my own uniform did, when I stripped off." Then he felt the blankets around him move as she slid into his bed. He stiffened in alarm, as her arms slid around him and she nuzzled his neck. He tried moving forward in the bed, giving her more room, but she followed. "Miss Nine, this is hardly the time," he said, finally finding his voice.

"I wish to experience mutual comfort, and safety," she said defensively.

He rolled over and put his arm around her. "Miss Nine," he began, "Seven. Whilst it may be comfortable for you. I'm not so sure it is for me. Nor can I vouch for your safety! I don't know I'm ready to have a beautiful and near naked woman draped over me, in my own bed!" He kissed her forehead tenderly as she settled on his shoulder.

"You will adapt," she muttered softly.

Suddenly there was a rumbling and the room shook. They gripped each other tightly, in alarm.

"I hope that was one of their damned rocket ships taking off," he cursed, relaxing a little as he waited for a possible second shock. He was, despite his protests, comfortable and didn't want to disturb his beautiful partner. As he waited he counted softly. The second shockwave hit a few minutes later, making the room rock. Again they tensed, then relaxed as it passed. 

"From what I remember of geology at home that would be centred about 100 miles from here," he commented. "I think I want to go home. Before the disaster," he murmured drowsily.

Slowly they drifted to sleep, in each others arms.

  
  


The Colonel awoke, slightly later than normal, with a start. Rapidly appraising the situation he was in, with Seven laying in his arms, head on his shoulder. She had moved a leg forward over his thighs, during the night, but otherwise she was in the same position as they had gone to sleep in. 

"If this gets out, I'm toast," he thought, noting the uncomfortable desires forming in his mind. 

Gently he kissed Seven of Nine. "Come on sweetheart, it's time to be your usual sweet and efficient self," he whispered, gently stroking her cheek. 

Slowly she woke, then snapped alert, eyes wide as she realised her position and rolled away. The Colonel was amused by her sudden reaction. "You started it lover!" He whispered in her ear, as he disengaged his arm. He rose from the bed and dressed.

"I do not know what happened to me. I did not want to be alone at night, I wished to experience comfort," she said slowly.

She seemed upset.

"No harm done, Miss Nine. And I couldn't have asked for nicer company," he assured her. "But now it's time to put your cold efficient mask on again. If you wish it, it never happened!"

He threw her suit to her, then turned and left the room so she could dress.

She joined him two minutes later. "You believe my attitude is because of a mask?" She asked attempting to restart the conversation, whilst waiting for Torres and Paris to rise.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes!" 

"I know when somebody is attempting to hide their feelings, I've been doing it too long not to. Last night, it slipped and you showed yourself as human as the rest of us mortals," he continued.

"And your professed love for me, is that part of your mask as well?" She asked, suddenly cold.

He put his arms around her. "No! That is one of the few things that I haven't been able to hide. Lord knows I've tried," he whispered.

They kissed.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Asked Tom Paris as he and B'Elanna Torres entered the room, both were showing big smiles.

"We could both leave so that you can finish saying good morning to each other!" Quipped Torres.

The Colonel flushed then rallied, "I could ask the same of your goodnight procedures."

"You could, but we don't pretend it doesn't happen," pointed out Paris.

  
  


The councillor arrived an hour later. As far as the Voyager crew could tell, he seemed nervous.

"Good morning Sir!" Announced the Colonel, standing up and saluting as the Councillor entered.

"The tremor last night added a little excitement to our evening. I hope it didn't do any serious damage?" He asked evenly.

"You noticed it? Yes, I suppose you would," the Councillor hissed hurriedly. "It was a minor tremor, not uncommon and we are prepared for them. It didn't do any physical damage. Thank you!"

"I see. But no trouble?" asked the Colonel carefully.

"No!" Hissed the Councillor firmly.

"Now. I shall take you to your vessel as you requested so you may contact your base ship," he hissed, suddenly all business. "I warn you the Sulphur fumes are as strong as yesterday, you will need your respirators. We will meet the Council a little later in the morning." 

They followed the tall figure out of the room and onto the tram parked outside the room. 

As it smoothly moved away the Colonel asked quietly, "How do you wish us to approach the Council, Sir?"

"They will try and convince you to give us your warp drive," the Councillor hissed in reply.

"I told you yesterday why I cannot give you warp drive technology, and I will not move on that, Sir! We need supplies that you can provide. But I do not want you to destroy yourselves buying it."

They arrived at the shuttle safely and entered. 

"Somebody has attempted to get in, Colonel," commented Paris.

"I'm not surprised. I would have," the Colonel admitted.

They raised the ship and Chakotay configured a relay to the Captain on Desduron. The Colonel briefly described the events of the previous day and night.

"I believe your view is correct Colonel. I accept the offer you've made," replied Janeway over the communicator. "I think we can obtain most of the minerals we need to repair the ship here. But we desperately require food supplies. Do what you see fit. We should be able to meet up with you in four or five days. Keep in touch."

"Ma'am," he replied and closed the channel.

  
  


The Captain had been worried about the second away mission. She preferred to conduct negotiations of this importance herself . The Colonel, as he had freely admitted, was not a diplomatic man and it was not clear how he would approach a new species without the years of training Star Fleet provided. But under the circumstances she felt she had little choice. 

"His approach is unconventional, Captain. They will try to get him to accede more," voiced Tuvok, reflecting her concerns.

"Yes, I suppose they will. But then I doubt anybody could make him change his mind when it's set. The Colonel is anything but conventional, wouldn't you agree?" She asked.

"Yes, Captain," agreed Tuvok honestly.

They turned to prepare for their own meetings, using more traditional means.

  
  


The Colonel's party rejoined the Councillor on the tram outside and it moved off, back into the city below.

"Our Captain has accepted my offer to you," announced the Colonel. "Now let's see whether your Council is full of wise men, like you Councillor, or politicians?"

They were ushered into a waiting room to prepare for the call to speak. It was, to the Colonel, like waiting rooms everywhere, anonymous. Anonymous white walls white walls surrounding anonymous and uncomfortable chairs, doors were set in opposite sides, one for in one for out, he noted. Designed to make people nervous. He ignored the seats and took up position in the centre of the room and started to meditate, effectively turning himself 'off'. Seven of Nine noting his actions, tried to emulate him and failed. She joined the others restlessly pacing the room.

"How does he do that?" Paris asked again, after the Colonel stepped aside, seemingly without waking, when he had almost collided with him.

They were ushered into the Council Chamber, the Colonel marching crisply, leading the way. They found themselves in the centre of a large circular chamber. Above and surrounding them on three sides was a three tier bench housing about 400 Kellorns. In front on a dais was a smaller bench at which 13 more Kellorn sat, their guide Karldoric sat towards the left side of the dais. The Colonel took his position in front of his team standing at ease.

The centre Kellorn stood up and started to speak. "I am Senior Councillor Harken, I welcome you Colonel Samuels and your people of the Federation Star Ship Voyager. The persons you see at the table before you are the Senate Council of Kellorn, on the surrounding benches are the rest of the Council."

The Colonel snapped to attention and bowed before the Senate Council. "At your service Sir!" he then returned to his easy stance.

"Senate Councillor Karldoric has told us what your proposals are. We would be grateful if you would restate them for clarification."

Again the Colonel recited his proposal of the night before.

"For your seeming generosity," asked a greying Kellorn from the bench, "What do you want from us?"

"As you are aware, Sir," replied the Colonel levelly. "Voyager is currently many thousands of light years from home, the only thing we ask from you is supplies so that we can continue our journey. As much as you can spare, or as much as we can carry, which ever is the lesser."

A red figure stood. "Why will you not give us the most useful technology. Warp Drive? Or why shouldn't we just take your vessel?"

The Colonel studied him carefully, feeling the hair on his neck bristle. This one was a full foot taller than Karldoric, his mandibles much larger. His attitude suggested aggression. The Colonel didn't like this Councillor, nor did he like the implied threat. "Please understand sir, for I mean no offence. I do not have the benefits of your antennae to sense people accurately. I get the impression that you are are a war monger." 

Everybody except the Colonel tensed. 

He continued calmly, "I've seen many cultures and without exception when they have gained technology without effort they destroy themselves, rapidly. If I gave you our warp drive you would attempt to make war on your neighbours, whose help you will need to transport your people safely. You will ignore your own planets plight until it is too late."

"As for taking our vessel. The shuttle in your space port will teach you nothing, nor is it big enough to move more than 8 Kellorn at a time. The engines, if you could remove them without them blowing you and your planet up, are not large enough to power a ship the size you need."

"Needless to say Voyager is quite big enough to look after herself!" He added.

The red figure hissed, then subsided.

Councillor Harken stood quickly. "We thank you, Colonel, for your openness and frankness. I in turn shall be honest with you! We have the benefit, as you pointed out, of organs that can sense the nature of people. We have inspected you and your party. We believe that you personally are capable of great hostility and violence, but that your offer is genuinely made. The Council will discus it further. In the mean time there are guides waiting for you in the reception room, they will show you to your quarters or the city, as you wish."

Dismissed, they were led back to the waiting room.

Two, seemingly young, Kellorn's awaited them. They introduced themselves as Karyn and Dumor, Council aides and children of Kaldoric.

"Who was the red chap that tried to threaten me?" The Colonel asked them.

"Kashar, he commands our armed forces," Karyn replied promptly. "He is dangerous to upset and the most belligerent of the Senate, he always wants to make war on Duron. It was a mistake to make him angry."

"Thanks for the warning. I do hope he calms down before he tries to be clever and belligerent. Else he may find he's not the only one it's dangerous to upset," the Colonel sighed.

"Now, what do you recommend tourists to see and eat in your city?" he asked more brightly.

"There is an eating place outside the Council," announced Dumor. "They serve meals to suit visitors, our food may not be palatable to you."

  
  


"The nice thing about travel, is that you get to try different things and learn about different cultures and how they get around there problems," the Colonel announced over their lunch of deep fried pancakes topped with a syrupy sauce.

"You think trying and learning is important?" rasped Karyn with interest.

"Why of course! How else can you learn?" The Colonel answered in surprise. 

"For instance," he continued. "Until yesterday I had never met anybody with arms to spare. Contrary to what fantasy writers of my time would have me think, I find them generally friendly and polite, without the urge to bite my head off at first sight." 

"Mushrooms on the other hand, were something that grew in dark places and only marginally preferable to iron rations for eating." He broke off a couple of pieces from Seven of Nines iron ration biscuit and offered it to the two young Kellorns, who nibbled it cautiously, finding it tasteless but edible. Seven of Nine had found the meal too rich for her palate, so had opted to use the Iron Pack for companies sake.

"I would like the opportunity to explore space," hissed Karyn.

"Your race will have sufficient exploration over your life time establishing a new home planet," pointed out Seven of Nine sternly.

  
  


After lunch the party split up. Torres and Seven of Nine went with Dumor to have a look at the geothermal generators. Karyn in the mean time linked arms with Paris and the Colonel and took them into the city. 

First port of call was the Space Academy, where she proudly introduced them to the Masters of Sciences and their students. Here Tom Paris was gently enticed, by the Colonel, to give a short lecture on space exploration. One of his most avid audience was the Colonel, which he found a little disconcerting. "I'm a newcomer to the idea, I want to learn from you as well," the Colonel confided to him afterwards. With the help of the students they tried the rocket ship simulators. Paris was by far the best pilot there. He was glad to find the Colonel was well behind him in something.

When they left Karyn took them to another hall. 

"This is a special place to us. It is our concert hall, people come from great distances to attend the performances," she confided, as she took them in. As they entered the Colonel gasped. The room was a cavern a full 200' across, deep and tall, elaborately decorated with seating for more than a thousand tall Kellorans. But this is not what had attracted his attention. What had attracted it was a small black figure in a booth next to the stage, it was playing a vast pipe organ. He went straight towards it, and watched fascinated.

"I haven't seen or played anything like this in years!" He exclaimed happily to the operator when he stopped playing. The small Kellorn looked at him, mandibles wavering uncertainly, until Karyn introduced her guest.

His name was Hishkar, the halls music master. After the introductions he willingly showed the enraptured Colonel around his work place.

"You have instruments like this where you come from?" Hishkar asked, with suspicion.

"Very similar. Obviously the keyboards are arranged differently, as we have fewer appendages to play them with. We can only play three chords at once as opposed to your five," replied the Colonel.

"You are a master musician?" Hishkar asked, more interested.

"Not in your league, I'm afraid. But some of my friends claim I can play and humour me, by asking me to do so from time to time."

"Would you care to test my instrument?" He asked, succumbing to the Colonels enthusiasum.

"I would dearly like to, but I doubt I could do it justice," the Colonel admitted sadly. "It took ten years to learn to play the one at my local Church passably. I haven't got another ten years to learn to play this monster."

"I shall help you," insisted Hishkar.

"Thank you," replied the Colonel, barely containing his excitement. He turned to Karyn, "I think you and Lieutenant Paris should continue your tour, I suspect what transpires next will be quite painful," he smiled.

Hishkar proved to be a good and patient teacher. With his help the Colonel quickly learned the layout of the keyboards, then was able to play a couple of simple tunes unassisted. 

"I thank you for your indulgence Mr Hishkar. As I expected, I really cannot do justice to this machine," he said at last. "But what I will do, when our ship arrives to pick my team up, is supply you with some of the music from our great composers. You might find them entertaining," he continued.

"Thank you Colonel, I'm sure I will enjoy them," Hishkar hissed, "Come I shall return you to your quarters."

Suddenly the Cavern shook violently...

  
  


Dumor led Seven of Nine and B'elanna Torres deep into the bowels of the city, to the geothermal generators. He introduced them to the plants coordinator, Tshar.

"We are here to inspect your generators for inefficiencies," announced Seven in her brusque manner.

The Kellorn hissed in annoyance at the inferred criticism. "My generators are efficient," he vowed.

Torres flinched, she knew the ex-Borgs mannerisims rarely went down well with those that didn't know her well.

"We shall see!" Seven managing to miss the inflection completely. 

"You will guide us," she commanded.

To his credit, Tshar resisted the impulse to attack the rude young woman. He took them on a tour of his station and explained it's workings.

"It is quite simple. We pump liquid Sulphur Dioxide into those pipes there," he announced. "The pipes go down to an exchanger some 2000 kilometres below the surface. There the liquid becomes gas and forces it's own way up to the turbine generators."

"Why do you use something as corrosive as Sulphur Dioxide?" Asked Torres.

"We have a lot of Sulphur, and we have materials that are not affected by it," Tshar assured her.

"But surely to liquefy the gas must use a lot of the energy?" She insisted.

"Our five plants generate far more power than we need for the city, so there is no problem," Tshar announced proudly.

"How much more?" Torres asked carefully, looking at Seven of Nine, who was taking readings with a tricorder..

"About 80% now, it was only 30% until the new plant came on line a cycle ago," he announced proudly.

"And what happens to the spare power, you supply it to other cities, that are less efficient?" Suggested Torres hopefully.

"Of course not," hissed Tshar. "Most produce as much power as we do, some produce more, but we have another plant in assembly so we can match them."

Even Seven looked up from her calculations. "Making so much surplus power is inefficient," she pointed out calmly.

They were taken to the turbine halls. The corroding pipes were leaking hot sulphur dioxide gas, it made them cough forcing them to withdraw hurriedly.

They sat together silently recovering from the fumes in a small office situated above the thermal reclamation plant. 

Tired of the silence B'elanna asked. "So, how many times have you and the Colonel shared a bed together?"

"Once," announced Seven of Nine without looking up from the PADD.

"What about on the ship, everybody knows you use his quarters?" persisted B'elanna.

Again Seven replied without looking up from her calculations. "He permits me to use his quarters should I wish not to spend time in regeneration. If I wish to use his bed, he uses a chair."

"No kidding?" Asked the amazed B'elanna Torres. She couldn't imagine Tom Paris doing that in the same circumstances. "A strange romance," she thought. "One governed totally by his sense of decency and honour, stiff as a board, but what controls Seven?" She wondered, "Ignorance? Fear? Shyness?" None seemed likely.

"I do not 'kid'," pointed out the unperturbed Seven of Nine.

"So, what happened last night?" Torres persisted, this was too good to be true she decided.

This time Seven of Nine did look up. "I wanted to experience comfort like you and Lieutenant Paris share."

"Go on, did you?" Asked Torres in morbid fascination.

"No!"

"So, what did you do together?"

"We kissed and he held me," the tone was flat.

"Then what happened?" She was getting exasperated, getting information like this from Seven of Nine was like getting blood from a stone.

"The earth shook and we went to sleep. It was.." She paused for thought, "Sufficient." She paused again, then added, "For the time being."

B'elanna Torres sighed for the frustration that Seven of Nine must have felt. "What is the matter with the man!" She thought, "The most beautiful and available woman on the ship, has practically poured herself on him. But he wouldn't do what was natural when the opportunity presented itself." 

She felt like screaming, but then suggested mildly. "If you want him that badly, you may just have to take him yourself and not wait."

"You believe so?" Asked Seven, coolly looking her in the eyes.

"Yes!" Torres replied emphatically.

"I shall consider your recommendation," stated Seven, returning to the PADD. A few minutes more passed. 

Finally she looked up. "My calculations show a major error in the design of the geothermal generators," she began.

The room suddenly shook violently, throwing the two women to the floor then into the wall. A mighty explosion occurred outside. It went dark as the lights went out. They recovered slowly, stunned by the noise and shock. In the darkness Torres moaned softly. On her hands and knees, Seven of Nine crawled towards the sound.

"You are damaged?" she asked in the darkness.

"It's my leg I can't move it," gasped Torres in pain.

Seven of Nine, felt for the leg and followed it cautiously along it's length, feeling blood. "There is a compound fracture below the knee," she announced at length. "Doubtless due to your impact with the wall. I shall attempt to put it straight and splint it."

"Doubtless," hissed Torres, in agony as Seven of Nine attempted to pull the leg straight.

By feel Seven of Nine found two chair legs, which she placed against Torres's leg. "I will need something to tie the splints to your leg with, and bandages" she said confused.

"Use uniform sleeves," suggested Torres, gasping in pain. "There is a knife in my pocket."

Quickly Seven of Nine searched for and retrieved the knife and carefully cut and tore at their sleeves. Still not having enough for her needs she slit the legs of her own suit. Then bandaged her companions wounds, strapping the leg tightly to the improvised splints.

She tried her communicator, without success. "I shall attempt to summon assistance," she announced. Carefully she crept to the door. Desperately she grabbed for the door frame stopping her as she teetered on the brink of a headlong fall into the machinery below. Grappling with the panic inside her, she looked out. A faint red glow was starting to light the machine hall below her, showing amongst the twisting shadows signs of the carnage below where the great machinery had been thrown into the air, nor could she signs of life. Of more immediate concern to her was that the ledge that had allowed them access to the room had gone.

"We are unable to escape," she announced, matter of factly. "The walkway to the room has collapsed."

She settled by Torres, dragging her knees to her chin in a child like attempt at dismissing the dangers.

"Stay with me!" Torres screamed at her, seeing Seven of Nine descending into panic. "We need to focus to get out of here!"

"Put this on." Torres commanded, throwing the shocked Seven of Nine a respirator. She helped the numbed girl into the mask then put her own on. Together they sat and waited, hoping for the Colonel to arrive.

  
  


Feeling the ground shake violently, the Colonel looked up desperately. He could see the great organ pipes tottering ominously. Without thinking he grabbed Hishkar and threw him under the organs keyboards, then dived after him.

"Why did you do that!" hissed Hishkar in fury. Then the second shock hit the hall. They watched as the seats started to heave, then with a great tearing of metal the organ pipes crashed into the floor around them, rapidly followed by large amounts of the roof. They were plunged into darkness as silence descended.

The Colonel shook his head to clear it, letting his training take over and settle his nerves.

"Will that serve as a reason? Not hurt are you?" Asked the Colonel as he scrabbled in his jacket. Eventually he pulled out a small torch and shone it on the frightened Kellorn.

"Now, you can see better than me in the dark. I need you to lead me back to my quarters. I must find out what happened to my people!" he demanded, dragging Hishkar from under the remains of the organ. "Then we had better get you to safety before the next 'quake hits. Come on. Move!"

In a daze the Kellorn, staggered to comply. Slowly they left the concert hall and entered the tunnels outside. In the weak light of the Colonels small torch they examined the carnage in the tunnel. Fifty yards one way a tram had been thrown clear of it's rails. It had rolled on its roof, then was partially submerged in rock from the roof. There were moans and cry's from inside the destroyed vehicle.

"Paris to Colonel," a shaky voice croaked over the communicator.

Rapidly the Colonel responded. "Report your situation Lieutenant! Who is with you?" He asked formally, hoping that Star Fleet training was strong enough to take over from panic.

"I, I'm in the quarters, with Karldoric and Kashar," came the shaky reply.

"Very good. Are Seven of Nine and Lieutenant Torres with you?" The Colonel asked, slowly forming and pronouncing the words for impact.

"N-No, they are still in the generator rooms! We've got to get them out!" The Colonel could sense the panic starting in Paris's voice.

"Very good. Now, keep calm and listen to me! I'm at the concert Hall. Get Karldoric to take you to whatever serves as a hospital here. There are a lot of injured people around and they will need your medical assistance!"

"But Seven and B'Elanna, we've got.."

The Colonel cut in, harshly. "Between them, they'll have the sense to stay put. A rescue party will find them. After you reach the hospital, get our Kellorn hosts to send a rescue party to the Concert hall. I need you to do your duty Lieutenant, NOW!"

With that he shut down the communicator and turned to the tram. "Do you know first aid?" He asked Hishkar.

"No," the Kellorn stammered.

"Now's a good time to learn then. Come on!" He snapped. 

"You can be sick afterwards," he added in a gentler tone.

Together they crawled into the smashed tram. There appeared to be twenty Kellorn on the vehicle.

"Work your way through the carriage, check each person for a pulse or signs of breathing. If their not breathing forget them. There are too many casualties to start phaffing with mouth to mouth resuscitation, now move"" He ordered.

They found eight Kellorns still alive, by the Colonels definition. Most with broken limbs, some with deep puncture wounds. By the light of the little torch the Colonel sat and taught Hishkar how to apply emergency first aid.

Karldoric brought up a rescue party thirty minutes later. Relieved of the need to apply first aid to the injured, Hishkar was heartily sick against the wall. The Colonel comforted him as best he could.

"I am sorry about this, Colonel," Karldoric said sombrely, "We should have known that a major tremor was due to hit us." 

"You are hurt?" he asked suddenly sensing blood.

"Apology's can wait Councillor, so can superficial wounds," the Colonel announced, feeling a cut in his scalp he hadn't noticed before. "We have work to do. Are your children all right?"

"Yes, they were in the Council Chambers when the 'quake struck. They were designed to withstand huge tremors," Karldoric announced, relieved.

"I'm glad, now about a party to rescue my missing crew members?"

"Kashar is responsible for arranging rescue groups."

"And has he?" The Colonel asked, with the suspicion he knew the answer.

"No. The plant workers that survived the explosion, claimed that the whole plant has been destroyed and nobody is left alive." 

"We had better go and see him about it then hadn't we?" The Colonel suggested levelly.

  
  


Aboard the Voyager, Chakotay was sitting on the bridge, nursing a cup of coffee. A young Ensign approached him.

"Excuse me Commander," he said nervously.

"Yes Ensign?" sighed Chakotay, taking a draught from his mug. The Ensign was acting as a temporary replacement in the Astrometrics lab. He was having problems with the equipment that Ensign Kim and Seven of Nine had developed.

"I was scanning Kellor with the long range scanners," the Ensign started. "They appear to have had a major earthquake in the capital city," he finished quickly.

Chakotay choked on his coffee. "You misread the results," he suggested hopefully.

"No sir! I'll show you!" The Ensign insisted.

"I'm sure your mistaken," said Chakotay getting up and following him, coffee in hand.

He checked the results on the science station. He started in shock, dropping the mug. "Voyager to Captain, priority," he shouted at his communicator.

  
  


On Desdur the Captain was in genteel conversation with the planets president, Buton, discussing Kellors potential problems, when Chakotay's voice hit her communicator.

"What's up?" she asked casually.

The reply stopped her in her tracks.

"Either the Colonel has started a war, or Kellor has suffered a cataclysmic catastrophe."

She went white, "what happened?"

"The capital city has been hit by an earthquake. Sensors estimate greater than Richter Scale 9!" Chakotay responded.

"Any response from the Away Team?"

"Nothing. But if they were in the city, we couldn't get through anyhow."

"Is there a problem," asked Buton, seeing her face.

"I think there is," replied the Captain, her mind reeling. "It seems that Kellor has had an earthquake and we cannot raise our Away Team."

"Oh, they frequently have earthquakes. They are an irritation there, so they build for them," Buton assured her.

"They didn't build for this one. It appears to have destroyed the capital city," Janeway advised him. 

It was his turn to look ashen.

"I shall have to return with my people and start a rescue mission to get my team there out."

"Yes, you must. I also will have to arrange our own rescue missions. If you will excuse me," Buton announced, turning away.

"Captain to Away Team, return to the ship, immediately," she called on her communicator, her voice harsh.

On the ship, she immediately started to give commands. "Continue trying to reach the away team," she ordered Tuvok. 

"Yes Captain!"

"Harry, set course for Kellor, Warp 7."

"Yes Captain, Time to orbit 9 hours."

"Chakotay, keep scanning the planet for anymore events. Doctor prepare for possible casualties."

Running out of commands to give, she could only slump in her seat and wait, nervously.

  
  


On Kellor war between the Colonel and Councillor Kashar was starting to look a distinct possibility. It had started out amicably enough. The Colonel and Karldoric had found him watching a Kellorn rescue team bring in more injured survivors. The Colonel asked politely, if he could join the rescue team to rescue his crew from the geothermal plant.

"I assure you Colonel, there is nobody alive down there. Especially your people, if the explosion didn't kill them then the fumes will very shortly," Kashgar announced, smugly.

"You know that for sure, do you?" The Colonel asked sharply.

"I do not need to know, just ask the survivors from the plant. But perhaps I could be persuaded to send a couple of people?" He suggested.

"What sort of persuasion Councillor?" The Colonel asked, carefully.

"You will give us the secret of warp drive and your weapons systems!" he announced glibbly.

"Your demands are unreasonable Kashar," protested Karldoric. "The Colonel and his people are already putting their own lives at risk, helping our people, instead of running for safety. We should attempt to rescue his partners."

"Quiet!" Kashar commanded, "We need these things to protect ourselves from our enemies."

"So I give you warp drive and photon torpedoes. Then you will return them to me alive or more probably dead. Is that it?" The Colonel replied menacingly.

"Yes!"

The Colonel's anger boiled over. Grabbing the big Kellorn by the lapels of his gown, he slammed him against the wall, then pulled his face down by the mandibles, bring it close to his.

"Listen to me and listen good!" He snarled, "I was warned I shouldn't upset you earlier on today because you have a tendency for violence. But I'll tell you now, the last person on this planet you want to upset, right now, is me! Because when it comes to acts of violence, I leave you and whatever pretend armies you have in the starting blocks. Your antennae allow you to sense me and my intentions, don't they? Use them! You'll find I could quite happily rip you into pieces, then beat your men to a bloody pulp with those same pieces, before they knew where I was!"

The Colonel released the Councillor. Who did use his antennae, rapidly, he reeled back at the anger that he sensed.

"Now," asked the Colonel sweetly, "Do I get my rescue team? Or do I turn this city into a blood bath?"

Karldoric stepped in bravely, he also had sensed the Colonel's growing fury. The Council were all afraid of Kashar. But the fear of Kashar he felt, was nothing compared to the terror he had felt when the human was threatening the Councillor. 

"You will have your rescue party, Colonel," he stated quickly. He waved over a party of some twenty short swarthy black Kellorn.

"These are worker cast, they will work for you. Look after them?"

"Thank you Councillor. I shall take care of them as though they were my own men," he answered in his more normal tones.

"Your name sir?" He asked the Kellorn who seemed to control the group.

"Rush, Master," he replied deferentially.

"First, Mister Rush. I'm the Colonel, not your master and second, I want you to make sure we don't kill ourselves. Now, I wish to go to the geothermal generators. I believe I have some friends there that need help, will you help?"

"As you command Master Colonel," replied Rush, still in deferential tones.

The Colonel sighed. "Lets go!" He turned and followed his new platoon of workers.

The heat in the tunnel leading to the plant was intense. "This is not good Master Colonel," Rush informed the Colonel, "There is much fire ahead. Too much gas as well!"

"Keep going Mr Rush," the Colonel urged.

They reached the end of the tunnel and stopped short. The tunnel normally came out into the turbine room about thirty feet from the floor of the hall. The floor was then reached by a series of stairs and walkways. All of this was now gone. In the place of the vast machinery, was a bubbling pool of lava now less than 15' below the tunnel. The heat was like the inside of a furnace.

"Mr Rush, can your people use your antennae as well as the others? Can you sense if there is anybody else here?" He asked urgently.

Rush returned to his co-workers and they gathered together sensors waving. A minute later Rush returned to him. "We sense there are two others like you, Master Colonel."

"Where, man, where?" He insisted urgently.

"They are in that room there, Master Colonel." The small Kellorn gestured at a door about twenty feet away and slightly above them.

The Colonel looked. There appeared to have been a walkway up to the room from the landing on which they stood. It like the rest of the room had been reduced to a pile of mangled metal.

He drew a deep breath, then lifting his respirator. With a voice trained for parade grounds, he yelled, "Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Torres!" Quickly he pulled the respirator on again. 

He was reassured by what he thought were voices from the room.

Desperately he scanned the area, searching for some method of reaching the isolated door. His eyes alighted on a pile of what looked like railway track, each piece appeared to be about fifty feet in length.

"Mr Rush are your people strong?" He asked.

"Yes Master Colonel," came the deferential voice.

"Are you strong enough to run two of those rails into that door?" he asked, hopefully.

"Yes Master Colonel," he replied.

"Good, then do it."

He stood back and watched. He was impressed by the way they worked together, manhandling the heavy rail as he had requested.

"Now," the Colonel said to Rush. "Send two people back to Karldoric, nobody else. Tell him that the lava here will be entering the city in a few hours. We have to block the tunnel. Tell him I want explosives and detonators. When they get them, they are to wait for us about half way down the tunnel, got that, it is important!"

"Yes, Master Colonel. I'll do it."

"Good, now the rest of you sit on the rails, there is bound to be another tremor soon, I don't want them to move."

Without waiting to see if they complied he sprinted up the rails into the room.

He pulled out his torch and shone it around. He found Seven of Nine and Torres, unconscious on the floor. Desperately he checked them over, Torres screamed as he inadvertently kicked her leg, Seven still appeared to have a pulse. Quickly he picked up Seven of Nine and ran back down the rails. He could feel the heat building in the rails, through the thick soles of his boots.

"You two!" He pointed at two of the Kellorn, "Take this one to the hospital, quickly!" He commanded. Then he turned and ran back up the rails. 

He picked up Torres as gently as he could, slinging her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and started down the rails again. He got about halfway when a new tremor hit the cavern. Desperately he fought for balance as the rails shifted, then fell straddling a rail as the second slipped into the lava below. Desperately he grabbed and held the remaining rail with his free hand, screaming as the hot metal burnt into it. 

As the tremor subsided, he gently started to inch his way down the rail again. Each hand hold screaming through his mind. He reached the end and Kellorn hands lifted Torres away.

"Take her to the hospital as well, careful she's hurt!" He hissed, fighting the agony.

Carefully he got up, then staggered almost falling as a wave of nausea hit him. He was grabbed by more than a dozen hands. "Master Colonel, is injured. We should take him to the hospital," voices muttered.

"Not 'till we blow the tunnel!" He hissed, "Help me!"

His reduced platoon almost carried him back up the tunnel. They met Karldoric coming the other way with another team of worker Kellorn's laden with explosives.

"How much time have we got?" The frightened Councillor asked.

"I don't know!" The Colonel answered, "An hour, maybe two. None at all if another tremor like the last one hits us."

"You must set the explosives into the walls and roof, you must block this tunnel right off. If you can do that you may just give your people time to get out of the city!"

"You will help us?" Asked the Councillor.

"I, I don't think I can," the Colonel stammered, then collapsed, sobbing and writhing on the floor, until he thankfully passed out.

Karldoric took one look at the Colonels injuries, then shouted at three of the Colonels party, "Take him to the infirmary, immediately!" 

"The rest of you start drilling into the walls and roof, quickly," he demanded of the rest.

  
  


In the hospital Seven of Nine was making a good recovery from the heat exhaustion caused in the turbine room, though the fumes still left her breathless. She watched as Torres was brought in and laid gently on the ground beside her. When Tom had finished treating her broken leg as best he could, she reached out a hand and gripped Torres's hand in hers. Torres woke, the effects of the heat having less of an effect on her metabolism than on Seven of Nines. She looked at Seven and smiled, then looking past her she saw the Colonel being carried in. Her smile changed from a smile to one of horror as she saw his hand, blackened and blistered. Seeing her partners face change, Seven looked around and stifled a gasp of horror at the sight, burying her head in the pillow.

"Tom," Yelled Torres, attracting Tom Paris's attention. "Tom, the Colonel, he's badly hurt!"

She dragged herself over to Seven of Nine, and held her firmly, trying to comfort her.

"I need the Doctor for this," announced Tom Paris. "I don't know where to start!" He exclaimed in panic.

"Then it is a good thing I'm here!" Came a calm voice behind him.

Paris turned spun around, in alarm. "Doc! How long have you been here?" He stammered in amazement.

"Long enough to see you panic!" the doctor informed him. "Now we had better get you all up to the ship."

"I'm staying here!" Announced Tom Paris firmly. "The Colonel ordered me to do my duty and care for the injured."

"Your stood down Lieutenant," said the Captain, appearing behind the Doctor.

"No ma'am," he refused. "The Doctor is needed to treat the Colonel and some of the other badly injured people. But there are many others here I can treat, now we have supplies. You put us in the Colonel's charge and he would have it no other way!"

"I see!" Said the Captain, stonily. "Very well as you feel so strongly, you may stay for a while, but I want you safely back on the ship as soon as possible. I'll deal with him when he recovers!" She turned.

A heavy rumbling was heard in the distance. Everyone looked around in alarm. In his unconscious state the Colonel stirred. "He's done it! The city will be safe now!" He announced, then slipped back thankfully into unconsciousness.

"What's he talking about?" The Captain asked one of the Kellorn who was holding the Colonel.

"The Master Colonel wanted the tunnels to the generators sealed to stop the lava!" The small Kellorn answered.

"Get him out of here," she said crisply. She walked off, shaking her head.

  
  


The Doctor with Seven of Nine, spent the next twenty-four hours treating the Colonel's wounds. Occasionally he would wake, screaming in pain and the doctor would quickly sedate him. Carefully they employed re-constructive surgery and more nano-probes from Seven of Nines blood stream to reconstruct the hand, which had burnt almost to the bone. They removed the remains of his uniform trousers, and treated the burns, where he had been sat upon the hot steel and spread reconstructive salves to the skin that had been exposed to the heat in the generator room.

Finally Seven of Nine sat down beside him exhausted. Taking his good hand, she sat back and waited, eventually dozing off. The doctor woke her roughly and forced her to go to her regeneration cell. She spent two hours there, then went to the Colonel's quarters, where she spent another fitful four hours curled up on his bed. Finally she got up and returned to the Colonel in sickbay. She was chased back to the regeneration cubicle by the doctor, when he found her a couple of hours later.

The Colonel awoke, groggy from the sedation, the next day, to be met by the Doctor's impassive face.

"So your awake are you!" The doctor said in an impassive voice. "You are a lot of trouble to me. Perhaps you should have your bed moved here, it may save time in future. Then Seven could have a chair by your bed so she can sleep," it was almost a sneer.

"Maybe, I'll just be killed next time?" The Colonel suggested mildly.

"The way we use nano probes on you, I doubt that is possible. At the rate Seven wastes them on you, you could have more of them than she does!"

The Colonel was confused by the Doctors attitude. He knew his humour verged on the sarcastic, but this appeared to be extreme, even for him. He sighed. "My apology's Doctor." 

He let it go at that, he didn't have the strength to pursue the problem, there and then.

He spent the next couple of hours making out his report ready for the Captain. She turned up, with Chakotay, soon after he finished, both looked grim.

"I don't know whether to congratulate you and the others or send you all to the brig," she announced, coming straight to the point.

"Life is full of decisions," he suggested mildly.

"You endangered my crew, I've had all three refuse my orders. It's not acceptable!"

"Did my mission succeed?" The Colonel asked gently.

"Oh yes! They think your some sort of benign angel down there! They keep going on about how you saved their city, especially Councillor Karldoric. We have been offered more food stuff than we could carry even if we stored them in crevice in the ship!"

"But, Tom Paris, spent another thirty hours down there treating the injured, claiming it was his duty and after I had ordered him to return. B'elanna Torres insisted on installing emergency generators herself and Seven of Nine when not holding your hand, designed a brand new geo-thermal generator that won't make the planet destroy itself, instead of regenerating properly."

"In that case the mission is a success. I am proud of my team, and so should you be. They've learned to do their duty, no matter what the consequence," he announced. He handed her the PADD which he had been using.

"What's this?" She asked suspiciously.

"My report. It is fully up-to-date, including the actions of Lieutenants Paris, Torres and Miss Seven of Nine. I accept responsibility for any derogatory consequences of their actions. So anything you wish to do to them, you do to me instead. I shall deal with them personally when I get out of here."

She took it, stunned. "How can it be up-to-date, you've been in here for two days unconscious!" She

exclaimed.

"Just because I'm not awake doesn't mean I'm not listening. You would be surprised what Seven of Nine told me while sat next to my bed. I was!"

They left him.

  
  


He was summoned to the Ready Room the next day. He arrived to find Paris, Torres and Seven of Nine already there. They fell in behind him, with Tuvok and a security team behind them, as he swung painfully to attention facing the Captain and Chakotay.

"You summoned me Ma'am," he intoned without inflection.

She got up and started to pace the room.

"I have read your report Colonel, very carefully." She paused impressively. "I have come to the conclusion, that you did what you thought was in the best interests of the crew and the ship. I also read your commendations of the actions of all three of your team. Based on what I know of your standards and have seen, I have no choice but to enter those officially in the Star Fleet records."

"Based upon what the Councillor Karldoric has told me, I must also enter a similar commendation in the records for your actions," she added.

"I officially request that it is struck, Ma'am, I merely did my duty as laid down in Queens Regulations," the Colonel protested. "Some of my team were injured, it would be inappropriate."

"I cannot help the fact that the standards you and your regulations set for you are impossibly high," she announced. "It has already been entered. Along with your punishments. For insubordination to a senior officer in charge, I sentence you all to two weeks loss of privileges and rank. In respect to the request from the Colonel to accept all the consequences upon himself , he shall serve them, concurrently. Dismissed!" She smiled at them, as the Colonel saluted and stiffly did a quarter turn.

"How could she do that?" asked Paris in confusion when they left.

The Colonel answered him. "When you reach the ranks of Captain in the Navy, or Colonel in the Army, the rules become a little confused. If you are prepared to accept the consequences, it is quite possible to bend them to suit your needs. I did, down on Kellor, when I told you to do your duty and treat the wounded. And the Captain did just now. She's simply reminding me that you belong to her and are ultimately her responsiblity. She knows there is no statute to transfer punishment to one person, she also knows I have replicator rations spare from the last few months. And two weeks seniority is nothing to a rank that's been held for six hundred years."

"Not that I am likely to be charging around a holodeck for a couple of weeks," he added ruefully.

"I'll have you know, I am proud of your actions. They were on a par with what I would of expected from my men. Now I owe you dinner, tonight my quarters, say eight o'clock.?" He suggested.

"Tom and I will be busy tonight," interjected Torres. 

"But you and Seven should have dinner," she added, looking meaningfully at Seven of Nine.

"I shall comply," she announced, returning her look.

"Good. Now I've a couple of things to do with my squirreled rations. If you will excuse me." He saluted the Lieutenants and bowed to Seven of Nine.

He met Councillor Karldoric in the transporter room. "You are recovered Colonel?" He asked in delight.

"Almost Sir," he announced, "How is your move planning working?"

"Very well I think. We have identified a planet from your records, and your Captain has honoured your pledge to take a party there to start construction. The new thermal generator designs you've supplied should give us far more time to get there safely. And Kashar is a changed kellorn since you threatened him," 

"I would ask a favour of you, if I may, Sir?" The Colonel asked.

"Name it," said Karldoric.

"There is a musician, Hishkar, who played in the concert hall. He did me the honour of trying to teach me to play his organ. Could you give him these for me." He handed the Councillor a box of sound recordings. "I know it will be some time before he has the organ working again, but perhaps they will give him inspiration."

"Thank you Colonel, I shall do as you ask. I also have a small gift for you," the Councillor announced, he pointed to six crates. "Six cases of Marathon."

"Thank you sir, I'll ensure they don't go to waste." The Colonel saluted the tall Kellorn as he was transported back to his planet.

  
  


Seven of Nine appeared in his quarters exactly on time. Dinner was washed down with a bottle of Marathon. After which, due to the discomfort of sitting he opted to lay on the bed. She lounged next to him, and tenderly kissed him.

"I could get used to this," he announced. "I think I shall have to widen the bed!"

"You are reckless, next time we may not be able repair you," she scolded softly. 

Then louder, "Computer, lights out!" 

She settled in his arms, "I wish to experience the sensations of comfort as I did on Kellor, you will provide it." she demanded gently.

  


  


  


  


   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.plus.com



	6. 1-06 For Want of a Nail

# 1-06 For the Want of a Nail

_The Doctor announces he loves Seven of Nine. Seven of Nine changes her mind._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel is my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story@rgower.plus.com_

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway._

_This story is rated PG _

  
  


  
  


The burns received at Kellorn had left the Colonel physically below par. He was annoyed to find even after three weeks of treatment from the recalcitrant doctor the feeling was only just starting to return in his burnt hand. His burnt backside no longer left him stiff thanks to the exercise regime, that he had continued with against the Doctors advice, though he had to accept that the scars would probably always be there. "Just another scar of battle!" He had declared to B'Elanna Torres, when she had inquired about them and the stiffness they caused.

The good side of the wounds was that the enforced rest had forced him to turn to his Star Fleet studies with vengeance. If only to reduce the crushing boredom, that he always felt after action. At home he would of immersed himself in the paperwork required to maintain the regiment, or improving the men's training. So hard had he studied, that he had finally completed the last theoretical studies to qualify him for the Star Fleet rank of Ensign, much to the surprise of everybody, except Seven of Nine. He had been with Voyager for a mere nine months, the Academy course usually lasted two years. 

"You have applied yourself correctly to the task," she had declared sternly, then spoiled the effect by kissing him.

There by lay one of only two problems he had yet to overcome. He pondered them as he worked at the desk in his quarters.

He had finally accepted that he loved Seven of Nine deeper than he had ever loved anybody else in his life, even his wife, Anneka, who had died so tragically. He had even accepted the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide his love behind the mask he wore to hide the feelings of despair and pain he lived with. The ship was simply too small to allow him to hide, from her, his feelings, or the crew, who seemed to know more about his dealings with her than he did. His problem was why she had chosen to return his love with such devotion of her own. For the life of him he couldn't see a single good reason for her to attach such devotion to a broken down battle scarred old soldier with a dubious past and very uncertain future. Especially as she was surrounded by a seemingly huge range of Star Fleet men, all younger, more handsome, with no past to hide and a lot more future. If they kissed, or she crawled into his bed and put her arms around him, he could feel she wanted more from him. But he was terrified of the consequences of the final step.

His second was the doctor. The doctors attitude to him since Kellor had been distinctly hostile. Whilst he had carried out the necessary treatment in his usual competent manner, the Colonel had sensed he would rather be doing something else. 

The Colonel disliked the medical profession on principle, he had been hurt and incarcerated in hospitals too often not to. He particularly disliked their phoney bed manner and ability to restate the obvious. The fact that his doctor now was a holographic projection, a technology he had to accept but didn't understand, and appeared to have a mind of its own, only heightened his disquiet.

In the end he decided that it was just him and the doctor that were at odds, so he he chose to avoid the EMH as much as he could.

The door chimed.

"Come in," he called.

Captain Janeway walked through the door. Stiffly he stood and saluted her, "Ma'am," he intoned.

She smiled. She found it hard not to at the stiff formality of the British soldier, stranded out of time and place. He still clung, in the face of Star Fleet casualness, to the rules and regulations he had served under for so long.

"Am I disturbing anything?" She asked, looking at the desk with interest. She could see it contained a table lamp and magnifier, a couple of thin pieces of wire and a small piece of what looked like wax on a piece of leather wadding.

"I was just about finished," he admitted lamely.

"What is it?" She picked up the piece of wax he had been working with so much care, trying to make out the detail. She gave up squinting and put it under the magnifier so she could see it more clearly. It was a model of a laurel wreath about 6mm in diameter, exquisitely detailed down to the veins in the individual leaves. In the centre, hiding what appeared to be a small clip, sat the emblem of the Colonels regiment, its motto clearly marked on a tiny scroll running underneath.

"It's the Regimental Award for Valour," he announced.

"It's beautiful, but why?" She asked.

He explained. "During the Napoleonic Wars rifle regiments gave those from their regiment that volunteered for the first assault on a castle a laurel wreath badge. They were called the 'Forlorn Hope', on the grounds they were unlikely to survive. It was a forerunner of formal decorations."

He continued, "when my regiment was reactivated, we were tasked with a range of operations that would of been too politically sensitive to record formally. I reintroduced the Laurel's so that particular acts could be recognised within the regiment, then let the Sergeants administer them. They became quite cherished, more so than the few medals we were awarded." He hesitated, then said quietly, "I was hoping that you would permit me to present them to Miss Nine and Lieutenants Torres and Paris for their actions on Kellor."

"Awards from a brave man to brave men?" Suggested the Captain. "Perhaps we ought to give one to you?"

"Perhaps. But I already have one," the Colonel said, pointing to an embroidered golden badge on his right shoulder.

"I cant imagine what you could have done, she claimed with a grin.

"What were they made from?" She queried more seriously.

"Ours were embroidered, but we made a few from silver to give to a few non-regimental people who particularly impressed my men."

"Why didn't you simply replicate them?"

"I will, but I hardly knew how to describe it to the replicator. Besides this seems more.. Personal," he finished.

"Very well. I shall let you present them, at the ceremony tonight on Holodeck 1," she announced.

"Ceremony, Captain?" It was his turn to ask questions.

"Yes. To present you with your ensigns insignia," she replied evenly.

He laughed. "With a mighty bound the Colonel leaps to the dizzy ranks of subaltern," he quipped. "I'm sorry, Captain, is it really necessary?"

"Yes! I believe you've made great strides in adapting to be a part of this crew and this century, it should be rewarded," she avowed with feeling.

"But I am not and will probably never be Star Fleet. Have you forgotten, I've sworn an oath to another commander, I cannot and will not serve two," he reminded her gently.

He caught sight of her disappointed face and immediately relented. "I shall accept your award and the honour you offer with gratitude." He smiled, so did she.

"I'm glad," she announced. "Now what shall we make these badges from, Silver is a little old fashioned don't you think?"

"It is traditional," he answered, "but is difficult to keep polished, so perhaps you're right. What would you suggest?" He asked.

"I think an Iridium alloy would be ideal, I'll help you." She placed the model in the replicator and persuaded it to provide what was required.

"Why do we still call you Colonel?" She asked whilst they waited. "Even Seven, who has more reason to be personal than anybody, only ever refers to you as Colonel, never as Alan."

The Colonel sighed. "For thirty years I was in Her Majesties Army. I was a rank, name and number- Rifleman Samuels 502. As I was promoted the number was dropped not being necessary anymore. As a Colonel even the name is no longer needed in normal conditions, I was the only one there," he explained. "If anybody used my Christian name, I probably wouldn't answer!"

"The more you tell me of your past life, the more it sounds like the Borg. No name just a designation, don't think do as you're told," she announced with feeling. "My, these are beautiful," she continued, pulling the newly created badges from the replicator and admiring their silver sparkle.

The Colonel took one from her and examined it under the magnifier. "Close enough," he grunted in acknowledgement.

  
  


To the Doctor, the Colonel was a primitive and violent ape, a clever and capable one, he had to admit, but still a primitive and violent ape. Like the Colonel, he was also puzzled by why Seven of Nine should attach herself to the Colonel. Unlike the Colonel, however, he was not prepared to accept the situation and let her make her own decisions. He was in short, jealous of the Colonel and the easy way he had accepted her company and past.

Seven of Nine had appeared in his sickbay for routine maintenance on her implants. 

"I need to carry out a full diagnostic on your implants, he announced after a quick examination with his tricorder. "Your optical unit is out of specification.

He had her lay on the couch and was was probing her.

"Why do you wish to be with the Colonel so much?" He started.

"I find him fascinating," she replied, honestly and understated as always.

"But do you love him?"

"I find him comforting, I enjoy interacting with him. You have recommended I should interact with the crew more." She replied firmly. 

"The unit you are adjusting has no effect upon my optical circuitry, she added as he set a contact.

"Your circuitry is all interconnected, he pointed out mildly. "I have to adjust some other parts to make it possible to correct others. What do you do when you interact?" He asked firmly.

"We talk. Sometimes he puts his arm around me and holds me. Sometimes he offers a kiss."

"And what do you talk about?" He asked making an adjustment.

"My life as a Borg. Sometimes he tells me stories of his previous life. There are many parallels. Alone of all the crew he understands the life of a Borg, he does not criticise it and does not attempt to judge my actions as part of the Collective, as others do. He helps me to accept my previous life."

"You could do that with me, no need to trouble the Colonel!" The doctor exclaimed, adjusting another control.

"You do not understand the Borg as the Colonel does. As a soldier he has carried out many of the functions of the Borg. To destroy life, adapt and assimilate hostile situations. He has had to repair the damage created by Borg like actions. Yet he has done it without the Collective for protection. He has faced the feelings I feel, now I do not have that protection, and has adapted to live with them. I cannot dismiss or forget those feelings, but he has helped me to live with them," she replied annoyed.

Again he made an adjustment.

"Do you love him?" He asked again.

"Yes!" Came the unequivocal reply.

Another adjustment to the implant, this time adjusting in the opposite direction.

"Do you love him?" He asked again, urgently this time.

"I-I don't know!" She replied shakily.

He mentally sighed, it would have to do, there was no more adjustments to be made. 

"I love you more than the Colonel ever can," he announced hurriedly. 

"I can give you everything he can, even more than he can. I can repair your implants and even help you forget your life as a Borg, he cannot do that!" He continued.

"Now will you love and stay with me?" He finished.

"Yes. I think I may love you!" She announced.

He could barely contain his excitement. "Good go to his quarters and retrieve your things and bring them here," he commanded. "Then tell him you've finished with him. Go on!"

The confused ex-drone got up and walked out the door. She felt something had been adjusted that shouldn't have been, but was unable to determine what it was.

  
  


She found him on Holodeck 2, running a bridge simulation. He was sat at the pilots console with a manual on his lap, glaring at the controls. She stood and watched him for a while, trying to remember why she so desperately wanted to finish her liaison. He put the file down and walked over to her.

"Hello Seven, I wasn't expecting to see you for a while. I thought you were going to do a long range scan today?" He said brightly bending forward and kissing her tenderly on the lips. He was surprised at the lack of response.

She pulled away. "I am glad you are applying yourself to your studies," she stated, desperately trying to give herself time to think. His kiss had re-awoken feelings that she felt she had before, she needed time to assimilate them.

The Colonel was puzzled, something was out of kilt somewhere. In his experience not even women changed their minds that quickly, certainly not the obsessively consistent Seven of Nine. From adoring sweetheart, prepared to tear the eye's out of another woman that looked wrong at her boyfriend, to total frost maiden in less than four hours.

"Yes. I understand my next subject is how to drive. It seemed a sensible precaution to make sure I at least knew where to sit!" He answered cheerfully.

"Unfortunately the manual and the dashboard don't seem to coincide particularly well," he continued. "Perhaps you could spare a few minutes to demonstrate the main controls?" He smiled.

"I do not have time to waste training you!" She announced, suddenly sharp. "I have come to inform you that our relationship is at an end. I have formed one with the doctor."

He stood shocked, his whole world crashing down around him. Now he knew there was something wrong. If she had announced her love for almost anybody else on the ship he could of understood it, he may even of accepted it and wished her well, but to the doctor!

"I must transfer my belongings to the sickbay," she announced, turning to leave.

"Don't!" He exclaimed, temporarily regaining control of his feelings, "love him or not, the sickbay is not a place to live in."

She stopped, uncertain, "It is where the Doctor lives. I should be with him. I can no longer be with you!"

"The Doctor doesn't live in the sickbay, he exists there," the Colonel pointed out desperately, feeling himself loosing control again. "I shall remove my equipment from quarters, they are yours!"

She turned back to him, something was gnawing at her. "That is not necessary, you will no longer have quarters of your own!"

"You cannot live in the sickbay! And I would rather die than force you to take up permanent quarters in the cargo bay again. I shall clear my kit within the hour!" His tone brooked no discussion.

"Thank you!" she stammered.

He slammed to attention in front of her, bowed and kissed her hand. "Your servant Ma'am," he declared formally, then left at the double. Leaving her standing confused with her own emotions.

  
  


The Colonel himself was engaged in the battle of his life. But this time it was with his own feelings. It was a battle he could not win. In what he now considered as Seven of Nines quarters, he rapidly stowed his few belongings in his rucksack. By his profession he was frequently required to move out of quarters at a moments notice, so by custom his kit was always kept to a minimum and largely packed. Picking up the final few pieces of gear he ran from the room.

He got to the Cargo Bays before his emotions got the better of him. Blindly he stumbled into the bay, startling the Ensign and her work party. "Are you okay, Colonel?" The young woman asked.

"Get out!" He snarled at her. 

She saw his face, white, drawn with eyes that burned, then ran from the bay with her crew. Desperately she sealed the bay doors. "Security to Cargo Bay 1, Emergency!" she screamed at her communicator. As a former Maqui and Bajoran camp survivor she had seen hatred on the faces of Cardasian's and the terror in her fellow Bajorans, but nothing compared to the mixture of both she could see in the Colonel's own face.

Tuvok and a four man security team arrived within five minutes. The security team took up station around the door.

"Report!" He demanded.

"It's the Colonel, he's in there. He's gone insane!" The ensign stammered.

There was a crash and an animalistic scream from inside the bay, they could clearly hear it even through the thick bulkhead of the cargo bay, proving the Ensigns assertion. Then it went quiet. 

Tuvok started to tap on the control panel by the door. "I have erected a level nine force field in front of the doors," he explained, "I shall now open the doors."

The doors rolled back. In the centre of the bay leaning on his sword, his head resting on his hands, knelt the Colonel. He appeared to be praying. Around him were the remains of half dozen containers. 

Seeing no immediate danger, Tuvok released the force field and entered. "Colonel, release your weapon and move back," he calmly instructed, his own weapon levelled.

The Colonel looked up at him, with a blank and haggard face. Carefully he looked around the bay, taking in the damage. Slowly he rose.

"Put down your sword and stand back," Tuvok insisted. 

The Colonel looked at his sword, then at Tuvok. Slowly he turned it around and offered it handle first to the Lieutenant Commander, who took it thankfully.

"You are unwell, we will take you to Sick Bay for treatment," He announced.

"I'll treat somebody," the Colonel snarled suddenly, thrusting Tuvok aside he made for the door. The security team fired. A phasor bolt hit him, he staggered, but kept going. Again they fired, this time three beams hit their target and he slumped to the deck.

"Transport him to the brig," commanded Tuvok, recovering from the shock.

  
  


Two hours later the Colonel started to recover from the phasor strikes. He shook his head to clear the whoozy feeling and looked around. He found himself in a brig cell, standing against the opposite wall was a security guard, his weapon drawn and ready. The guard had heard how difficult the Colonel was to stop and was taking no chances. The Colonel tested the force field across the doorway, it seemed stronger than he felt at the moment. He sat back on the cot and waited.

  
  


The Captain, Doctor, Seven of Nine and Tuvok arrived a while later.

The Doctor advanced upon him, tri-corder in hand, "I just wish to take some readings, so I can announce you safe," he smiled.

"Keep away from me you bastard," the Colonel spat, his anger rising again. "I know what you are upto, and I won't go along with it!" He suddenly launched himself from the bed, snatched the emitter from the Doctors arm and threw it out of the cell. The doctor disappeared and the Colonel slumped back onto the bed. A stunned silence fell on the gathering.

He looked up. "I'm sorry for the damage caused, Captain. Please take Miss Nine away as well, she shouldn't see me like this. I promise I'm not a danger any longer," he pleaded.

The Captain looked hard at the haggard and broken man in the cell. How different he was to the tall and strong minded man she had talked with a few hours ago she thought. Finally she nodded, "Tuvok I think you and Seven should leave us alone for a while."

"Captain, that is not wise. He is still dangerous, as he demonstrated with the Doctor!" Protested the Vulcan.

"I don't think so," she pronounced. "If he was he would be out the cell by now. We didn't re-establish the force field after he threw the Doctor out," she pointed out.

Tuvok led Seven of Nine out of the room. The Captain turned and faced the Colonel. 

"You've wrecked a cargo bay, assaulted a security team and the Doctor and terrified my crew, explain yourself!" She demanded sharply.

Quietly, haltingly even, the Colonel explained what had happened, since his return from Kellor. 

"I believe when Miss Nine went for her routine calibration, the Doctor adjusted something he shouldn't," he finished at length.

"Women do change their minds quickly you know," she suggested gently.

"I know they do, but not that quickly and not Miss Nine! This morning she was proposing to prepare a candle lit dinner tonight! You can't tell me that is the act of a woman changing her mind!" He pleaded desperately.

She got up, unusually he didn't. "I shall investigate the situation," she announced. "Is there anything I can get you for the time being?"

"I'm tempted to ask for a gun with a single bullet. But the temptation to use it might be too strong." He tried to smile. "I'd like my bible and flute, please Captain. They should be in my pack over there," he pointed at a pile in the corner of the room.

"You look as though you were ready to leave us!" She commented as she searched the pile.

"I'm always ready to vacate my quarters without notice," he replied flatly. "Miss Nine's needs are greater than mine, so I packed."

"You're still love her despite all this?" She asked fascinated, handing him the articles he had requested.

"Of course," he retorted. "If your investigation shows I'm wrong. Then the Doctor has my apology's and blessing. I will even ask to be released from the ship, if you don't wish to dismiss me. But I will still love her, that can't be changed."

"So you would have her back?"

"If she wants me. She's now seen most of my unpleasant side laid bare. If she's any sense she won't come near me again," he answered sadly.

She left him playing his silver flute.

  
  


The re-activated Doctor, smiled to himself in sickbay. Things were turning out better than he had hoped. After the displays in the cargo bay and brig, there was no other choice for the Captain, but to banish the violent ape. The fact that Seven had decided to leave her belongings in the Colonel's quarters were irrelevant, if he was no longer around.

His thoughts returned to Seven of Nine. He had sent her to regenerate in the alcove, believing that the machinery would lock his suggestions in her mind more permanently. He wondered how he could make her more reliant upon him. 

He idly started to work at the console.

  
  


The Captain called a bridge meeting on her return. Chakotay, Tom Paris, Harry Kim and Tuvok trooped into the ready room behind her. Briefly she described the discussion she had had with the Colonel, then asked for opinions.

Tuvok spoke first. "The Colonels antipathy to the Doctor is well known, Captain. He could be making it up to provide an excuse for his actions."

"I disagree," interjected Chakotay. "His actions are a result of Seven of Nine's decision. If I was as infatuated as badly as the Colonel, I would be violent. Until now, I'd have said the only person on the ship more in besotted than the Colonel, was Seven of Nine and it wasn't with the Doctor."

"I'd agree to that," Kim announced, with feeling. He had tried to engage Seven of Nine in conversation, on several occasions and had significantly failed to get to first base. "If he's in the room, he's pretty well the only person she has eye's for!"

"How about in sickbay, Tom?" The Captain asked. "Has the Doctor been behaving unusually?"

Tom Paris straightened in his chair. "He's been more surly than normal, sure. But I've taken it, until now, as simply him trying a new attitude."

"So it looks as though there may be something in what the Colonel has said. We have a potentially berserk killing machine and an equally berserk Medical Hologram. I don't like either! What do we do about it?" The Captain demanded.

"The Colonel is safe in the Brig, for the time being," pointed out Tuvok. "However we should not allow the Doctor or Seven of Nine to approach him."

"Agreed. Nobody outside this room is to approach him."

"We could get Seven to check her logs, the Doctors actions will be recorded," suggested Kim.

"That could be dangerous Captain," interjected Tuvok. "If she finds there has been unwarranted adjustment. she may also suffer breakdown."

"You could simply talk to her, Captain?" Suggested Chakotay, mildly.

"Agreed. We will leave Seven's logs alone, unless essential. I want B'Elanna's Schematics for Seven of Nine's implants, before I talk to her."

  
  


Two hours while later she called Seven to her quarters.

"Come in," the Captain announced casually, as Seven entered.

"I want to know your side of today's story?" 

"I told the Colonel I was not in love with him, he became agitated," Seven declared coldly.

"I'm not surprised. You don't drop a bombshell like that from out of the blue without some reason. This morning you were proposing to cook him a romantic dinner!"

"I do not wish to discuss the situation. I am leaving," the tall drone announced. "I must return to the Doctor, I am needed!" She claimed, suddenly flustered. 

"The Doctor can look after sickbay for a short while and I want to know what happened. We are talking about a mans life here. If we find him guilty there will be no option except to put him off the ship, he is too violent to keep briged. A man that until this afternoon, you loved more deeply than I've ever seen anyone be. So you will discuss it and you will discuss it here! Computer seal the doors!" The Captain commanded, her voice rising in anger.

She gained control of her voice again. "Now please, lets sit down. Then you can tell me what has changed your mind. I promise I'll not try to change your mind for you," she said gently.

She sat timidly on the edge of a seat, shocked at the Captains display of emotion. Janeway sat at another.

"Now," she started, keeping his voice gentle. "You believe you have formed a relationship with the Doctor, would this be when you went for your calibration this morning?"

"Yes! I went to the sickbay for routine realignment of my optical implants. He laid me on the couch to adjust some parameters. He claimed that the Colonel did not love me. That he could love me better than the Colonel could. Nor could the Colonel look after me as well as he could. He says he can help me forget my past. Then said I couldn't love the Colonel!" She catalogued.

The Captain felt a sense of outrage building on behalf of the Colonel, at the patent lies and untruths. She took a deep breath, controlling her own ire. 

"If there is one thing I am certain of in this quadrant, it's that the Colonel loves you as much as any human can!" She said quietly.

A thought pricked her mind. "You said he had you lay down, that's not normal is it? I've seen him adjust the optical implants before, you're standing during adjustment."

"He said he needed to adjust some other implants to bring the optical units into specification," she said uncertainly.

"Which implants did he adjust?" the Captain asked carefully, not sure what was coming.

"I believe it was these," Seven of Nine declared, showing her two small controls on the edge of her metallic eyebrow.

She drew a sharp breath.

"Seven," she said softly. "They have nothing to do with your optical processors. I think they may be the units that control your emotions!"

"I would be aware of incorrect adjustment, Seven of Nine announced firmly.

"Only if you looked because you were uncertain of the results. And you trust the Doctor. We all do! Captain Janeway said quickly.

"Captain?" Seven asked in confusion.

"Do you love the Doctor?" Janeway asked urgently.

"I am uncertain."

"But you are prepared to live in the Sickbay with him?"

"Yes."

"That's not a logical action for someone who doesn't know she's in love is it?"

"Captain?" The confusion was evident now.

"I think he may have adjusted the Borg implants that allow you to ignore your real feelings and then implanted some of his own!"

"I have been reprogrammed? My thoughts are not my own?" Seven asked in rising panic.

The room rocked violently, as an explosion wracked the ship. Throwing them from their chairs. Lights went out to be replaced by dull emergency lights.

"Report!" The Captain screamed at the communicator as she picked herself up from the floor.

"Torres here Captain," the worried voice came over the intercom. "We've had a major feed back through the EPS manifolds. It looks as though it's blown every circuit in the ship, except emergency life support. We're trying to isolate the core. I have wounded in Engineering and I can't raise the Doctor!"

"Keep on it!" She commanded, then turned towards Seven.

"Seven, are you all right?" She asked.

"I am undamaged Captain," said the shaken ex-drone, picking herself up. "I do not like the idea of having my opinions adjusted, against my will."

"Nor do I! But we will have to discuss it later. They need your help in engineering."

Janeway staggered onto the bridge. "Report!" She demanded again.

"No propulsion, we're not going anywhere" advised Paris.

"Shields and Weapons are inoperative," from Tuvok.

"Sensors are down, computers not responding," from Chakotay.

"All attempts at re-routing power are failing," Tuvok announced.

"Get a grip of things," her mind screamed at her, "Think!"

"Tom go with Seven of Nine to engineering, they have casualties. Tuvok, find the doctor, he's gone missing. Whatever he's done we need him. The rest of you make your way to the mess deck, we can concentrate emergency life support there. Chakotay and I will remain here as long as possible," she commanded. Having made her demands she settled into her chair, and gazed at the blank screen.

"I think we have a problem," she finally stated to Chakotay.

"I think you may be right. The force field around the brig will be down," he commented mildly.

  
  


When the ship rocked, the Colonel had been dozing on the cot in the brig. Automatically he shot upright and ran for his equipment, pulling his combat jacket from the pile. He forced the door open and was running toward the source of the explosion, letting the old impetuous to march towards the guns to take over. Totally forgetting that he was under restraint.

He reached Engineering and stopped at the scenes of pandemonium being enacted. Equipment and consoles were liberally scattered around the room. People where standing stunned, others were sitting heads in hands, others were laying groaning on the floor or under equipment. Training and experience took over him. Quickly he started forcing people to treat the injured. His voice, honed through years of experience to carry commands to men in the noise and confusion of battlefields, jerking people into action.

"Where is Lieutenant Torres," he demanded of one confused crewman, grabbing his clothing. The crewman indicated towards the main engineering hall.

"In there she's trying to protect the core from the feed back," he stammered.

Dropping him the Colonel ran into main engineering. Seeing a new plume of smoke starting to emanate from the console behind her. "Torres get down!" he yelled, then ran towards her.

Instinct made her follow his bellowed instructions. But the console beat her to it, she was caught in the full force of the explosion as she hit the deck. Before she could get up again he lifted her bodily, throwing her over his shoulder and left the room to the smoke.

She screamed at him, "I've got to throw the isolators to the warp core or the ships goes. You stupid ape."

"You're not going anywhere, you're too badly hurt," he stated calmly, showing her his hand covered in her blood.

Tom Paris and Seven of Nine arrived. "Mr Paris, look after Lieutenant Torres," he demanded. 

"Miss Nine. We've got to trip the isolators to the core." 

"It too dangerous for you to enter, you may die," she said.

"If I don't we're all dead. I've least to loose," he snarled. 

"I shall do it. You must instruct me on how to do it when I get there," he continued firmly.

"You! bring me that breather," he ordered a dazed crewman.

"I shall comply," stated Seven of Nine, swallowing hard.

Putting the breather on he fought his way through the smoke to the console Torres was working on.

"Seven, I initiated first stage isolation, he must complete that before starting final isolation from main control," hissed Torres, under treatment from Paris.

"Acknowledged," Seven replied, biting her lip.

"Miss Nine, I am at the control panel nearest the warp core," the Colonel announced calmly.

"There is a lot of smoke, so I can't see a great deal. I can see the colours of the pads, but I cannot read the text. You will have to lead me by colour command. I currently have a steady red lamp in the centre of the console and a flashing green one at the bottom right. What do I do?"

She swallowed, trying to visualise the panel, she looked at Torres for help. "Green, yellow, red," Torres hissed at her.

"Press the green flashing lamp. Keep it pressed until a yellow pad comes up."

"Roger. I have a verbal warning, First Stage Manual Isolation Priming," his voice echoed.

"Ignore it," she advised. "Hold the yellow pad until the red light flashes, then press that." She was keeping her voice level.

"Operation complete. I have a new warning. First Stage Isolation Complete. From that I assume there is more?" The voice came back.

"Go to the wall console to your left, it has the schematic of the ships power systems above it," Seven answered.

"Will do," silence, then "Bugger the damned displays collapsed onto the console, I'll have to pull it away, hold on."

There were flashes and bangs from inside the room, the sparks could clearly be seen through the window between departments. 

"Colonel, are you still there?" Seven asked nervously.

"I never knew you cared!" Came the calm reply. 

"God I hate electricity. The damned thing bit me," it cursed.

"You are damaged?" She asked. The voice ignored her.

"Now what? I have a touch panel, only the menu's appear to be showing."

"Fourth menu down, press it," Seven was concentrating hard. "Select the third option, a red pad will appear, press that. Then leave, immediately!" She finished in a rush.

"Will do!" The voice coughed, then came back again. "Operation complete, somebody shout so I know how to get out of here!"

A series of profanity's emerged from the communicator as the Colonel stumbled back to the control room. 

Seven of Nine moved to the doorway and caught him as he stumbled out of the smoke, blackened and singed.

He coughed heavily several times, then straightened up. 

"Lieutenant Torres," he announced. "I have come to the conclusion your department doesn't like me, bits of it kept jumping out and attacking me," he quipped, demonstrating the bloody welts of scratches on his body and numerous holes in his uniform. "I'll have to pay for the uniform when I get home!" He protested, amidst the laughter.

He slumped heavily onto Seven of Nine, exhausted by the exertions in the heat and smoke. She struggled to hold him upright as Tuvok appeared.

The Colonel weakly held out his hands, wrists together. "I suppose you've come to take me home Commander?" He asked quietly.

"It was not the purpose of my arrival," Tuvok answered. "But I shall have you escorted back to the brig. Are restraints required?"

"I believe it is in your regulations and it is not impossible we may meet the Doctor, I cannot guarantee my reactions" the Colonel answered levelly. "I've done enough damage today don't you think?"

Tuvok nodded to one of his men, who approached and placed restraints onto the Colonel's wrists. "You will escort the Colonel to the brig, collect his equipment, then go to the Mess deck," he ordered. 

"I cannot hold you in the brig and power for life support will have to be localised on specific parts of the ship." He explained, for the Colonels benefit.

"I am looking for the Doctor, he has gone missing. Has anybody here seen him?" He asked loudly.

Nobody had.

"What's all that about Seven?" Torres asked in quietly, as Tuvok and the Colonel left. "He hardly looked at you. Haven't had a tiff have you?" 

"You are not aware?" Seven asked, surprised.

"No. I've been here all day, nobody's been in or out."

"I made an error and I do not know how to correct it," Seven replied, turning away to hide her watering eyes.

"Some error. For him to be held in chains," Torres muttered quietly. 

She got up painfully, "Okay people, lets get this ship together again, emergency power doesn't last forever."

  
  


On the bridge Janeway fumed. Some times she paced around the deck fuming, other times she sat on her chair and fumed, neither seemed to help her mood. Apart from a message from Torres to say that the core had been stabilised and repairs were underway and another from Tuvok to announce that the Colonel had been apprehended, there was no good news.

"Where is the Doctor? What caused the explosion?" She ranted.

Chakotay sat quietly, she didn't want any answer he could provide. Silently he prayed to his animal gods.

Tuvok stepped on the Bridge. "Report?" she blasted at the unfortunate Lieutenant Commander.

"We have been unable to locate the Doctor or his emitter. I believe he has deactivated both himself and the emitter, if that is the case we will not find him until the systems come online again." He answered calmly, he had faced an angry Captain Janeway before.

She nodded in reluctant agreement. "And the Colonel?"

"He surrendered himself in Engineering. He is under restraint on the Mess Deck," Tuvok admitted unhappily.

"What is he under restraint for? He's not been violent again? As I've heard it he saved the ship!" She asked incredulously.

"He quoted Star Fleet Regulations to me, He also informed me he may not be able to control his emotions if we found the Doctor. I had no option," Tuvok announced defensively.

"Damn the bloody Regulations!" She exploded, finding that the Colonel's terminology was the only one that suited her mood. "Have him released immediately."

"I have attempted to do so, but he has refused until he is returned to the brig," Tuvok said calmly, secretly he admitted he had never seen the Captain so upset.

"I'll deal with him," she breathed at last.

The main lights came up. "Torres to Captain!" squawked her communicator.

Chakotay intercepted the message. "Chakotay here, tell us you've got some good news B'Elanna."

"We have main power to life support, shields, external sensors and computers. We've been locked out of the computers though. Seven is requesting the assistance of the Colonel for getting the main power distribution and propulsion controls back on line."

"The Colonel's help?" He asked incredulously, "He doesn't know anything about the ships controls!"

"True, but we can't move the panels in one piece. The Colonel did on his own, we want to know how!" Came the reply.

"I'll see what we can do," he promised. "Keep working on it! Chakotay out."

"We will go and see him now!" Announced the Captain.

  
  


On the Mess Deck Janeway marched straight to the Colonel. "Why are you still in restraints?" She demanded.

"I have escaped from confinement whilst under close arrest. I am still a potential danger to your vessel. And just at the moment I have no beneficial function aboard your vessel."

"I am having you released," she stated bluntly.

"Captain?" He asked calmly.

"I don't care how sorry you're feeling for yourself. But I, this ship, and Seven needs your assistance. You are giving it whether you like it or not!" She declared, releasing the manicles.

"Ma'am?" He asked again.

They were interrupted by the voice of the Doctor. 

"Good evening, this is your friendly doctor with a house call," the voice announced.

"Where are you?" Called Janeway, looking around.

"All around Captain. Since I had an enlightenment three weeks ago I have been doing some thinking."

"Go on," Janeway prompted, "What have you thought of?"

"Well it started in a small way with, what an ill mannered ape the Colonel is. Then I thought the rest of the crew isn't a lot better in their treatment of me. Except that is, for Seven of Nine, but she has decided she prefers an unintelligent ape man compared to somebody who is her equal."

"Gas bag," growled the Colonel.

"It gets lonely in the sickbay, so I decided I'd like some company. Seven of Nine's company."

"He's in the computer!" she exclaimed.

"Keep him talking," the Colonel hissed in a whisper. "I need to borrow Mr Kim. Please, don't ask questions."

She nodded.

"But she's already spoken for," she reminded the EMH.

"Precisely."

"So what did you do?"

"At first nothing, taking the standard texts as a guide, a young woman's first fling never lasts very long."

  
  


The Colonel pulled Kim away from the group. Then whispered, "Remember the ball a while ago, I promised to show you how I did it?"

Kim nodded.

"I think it is a good time to show you. Can you get to the hologram programs from this emitter?"

"I think so!"

"Do it. I want programme Samuels 01," the Colonel commanded.

Puzzled, Kim set to work.

The hologram of Corporal Miller appeared. Quickly the Colonel clamped a hand over the Corporal mouth to prevent him saluting.

"Corporal, I wish you to meet Ensign Harry Kim. Mr Kim may I introduce my pet computer hacker Corporal Miller."

"Now Corporal, Mr Kim, his friends and I, have a bit of a problem with a bug in the ships central computer, it goes by the name of Emergency Medical Hologram, series 1 aka. Doctor. It is wide spread. I need you to round it up and disable it. Don't destroy it like the one you found in the CIA system. We may need it in one piece and in one place. That's right isn't it Mr Kim."

Kim nodded his head in amazement.

"How good is the security Sir?" The little Corporal asked.

"I would assume maximum hostility from security. Deal with it as you see fit," the Colonel suggested.

"Sir! Is your lady, Miss Nine, in trouble as well?" The Corporal asked.

The Colonel was surprised. "Yes, why?"

"She activated me a week ago and we had a long talk about you. She's mightily impressed by you, Sir. I approve of her, Sir. I shall ensure no harm comes to her as well."

The Colonel was flabberghasted, "Thank you, Corporal, get on with it please."

"Sir!" the Corporal saluted.

"By the way Corporal, you remember that little WRAC typist you had your eye on for a while, I hear she's interested in you too. Sort my little problem out and I'll ensure her Sergeant doesn't hear about you as well."

The weasely Corporals face cracked into a grin. "Consider it done Sir." He disappeared.

Kim sat stunned at what he had witnessed.

"Ensign. Never ever do something yourself when you have the services of somebody else who can not only do it for you, but do it better and faster than you could hope to," The Colonel confided. "If anybody can sort the Doctor out, it will be Miller."

  
  


"What have you got against Seven and the Colonel teaming up? The Captain asked, working to keep the doctor talking and wondering what the Colonel was up to.

"He is an unintelligent, violent, ill mannered, primitive life form, the Doctor raged. "They are simply not compatible in intelligence or genetics, and she is being led astray by him.

"I think the Colonel is the politest human Ive ever met, certainly one of the most protective, the Captain observed. 

"Irrelevant!

"Should they have to be a perfect match, if they are happy? Id say they form a good match as they are and it certainly looks as though Seven is happy with him, wouldnt you agree? The Captain continued doggedly. "Nobody has complained about Tom and BElanna and there is no way they form a perfect genetic match!

"She will be happier with somebody that is her intellectual match, the Doctor responded.

"Would she? Surely she can make her own decision. Shes rejected your attempt to provide a perfect holographic mate, she reminded him.

"But it can only be a passing phase! the Doctor snarled. "Seven will see through him in the end.

"But this one looks as though it will go all the way doesnt it? From what Ive seen the Colonel has done everything short of throwing her out to make sure she knows what he is."

"Precisely. I misjudged how infatuated Seven of Nine was with the ape. And how much of a gentleman he was. I couldn't believe it."

"If we accept that the Colonel isnt Sevens perfect mate, what can you offer her? The Captain asked working hard.

"My intelligence and company.

"The Colonel isnt as unintelligent as you seem to think, hes proved that, Captain Janeway disputed. "As for company the Colonel is offering a lot more than that, love, friendship, comfort, patience, he listens to her without judgement and he is always there wherever and whenever she wants him. Something none of us has ever done for her.

"Its a trick to get her to accept him!

"So youve decided more direct action is required?" She asked angrily.

"That's right."

"So you waited for a routine re-calibration of Seven's Optical Sensors and tried to meddle with her thoughts and it all went wrong? What did you do?" She demanded.

"It didn't go wrong!" The voice exclaimed, "I simply adjusted a couple of the nodes that controlled her feelings, they wouldn't adjust far enough. You have no idea how strong a hold she and the ape have on each other. It did leave her open to suggestion, so I left some: She loved me not the Colonel, the Colonel didn't love her, the Colonel wasn't good enough for her and so on, it was quite simple."

"The Colonel would probably agree with you on the last one," admitted the Captain. "It wasn't enough though was it?"

"No," The voice admitted, "I never expected the ape to move out of his quarters so fast, or that Seven would opt to stay in them. I thought I had got away with it when the ape went berserk, then threw my emitter out of the cell, there was only one possible action for you at that point. But you didn't take it." he sounded upset.

Janeway saw the Colonel making a thumbs up towards her, then urgent keep going actions.

"So what do you intend to do now?" She asked, steadily.

"Oh, I still intend to have her."

"How?"

"I shall give you a choice Captain, either you can fulfil your duty and banish the Colonel from the ship, then I can take Seven of Nine for myself. Or I'll simply drain her consciousness into the computer and we will live happily here. Alternatively I could just turn off life support to all decks, and she will still be mine. It is all so easy from here. You can't touch me, without the computer you can't even destroy the ship. But I can control you, as you have seen in Engineering. Which will it be Captain?" Thundered the Doctors voice.

The Colonel made a bolt for the door and Engineering.

"You cannot help her this time, Colonel!" The voice chased after him.

"You should know me better than that. I will never surrender a member of the crew and I doubt that Seven will be a willing participant now," said the Captain, keeping calm. Hoping the Colonel knew what he was doing. She spotted Ensign Kim, smiling nervously at her.

"I will not have problems with her will, I know how to override that," the voice was dangerous now.

"Then you won't have Seven of Nine, will you?" The Captain asked mildly. "It is her will that makes her what she is!"

The voice came again, "Never the less she will be mine and in time she will accept the situation. Which option will you take Captain?"

"What about the times that members of this crew have risked their lives, for you and the others on the ship. They're all your friends. They've all you helped you become more than a simple EMH?" The Captain pleaded.

"They've helped because it was necessary for them to survive, not as friends," the doctor retorted.

"Which option will you take Captain?" He repeated.

"I'll let you know!" She drawled.

  
  


The Colonel arrived in Engineering breathless. Seven of Nine saw him and floated towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"I must let him take me, he cannot have Voyagers crew!" She exclaimed.

"Just wait!" He whispered.

"It would be your reaction, wouldn't it?" She asked puzzled.

"Of course it would, but only if I had no other card to play. If the Captain can keep the doctor dangling long enough, then the card will play itself. Trust me!" He whispered gently.

  
  


Minutes passed. Breathlessly the crew waited.

Then the doctors voice came again. "I have lost patience waiting Captain. I shall take Seven's mind now then deal with the crew."

"No!" Screamed the Captain, in anguish.

  
  


Seven of Nine screamed as a stab of pure pain hit her. She slumped in the Colonels arms, then slowly stood up again, her face pale. "You released your Corporal Miller in the main computer!" She accused, "I heard him when the doctor tried to capture my mind."

The voice of the doctor came back, furious. "This is a trick, the ape man isn't clever enough to do this."

The Colonel spoke up. "I admit it, Doctor, I'm not. But I know a man who is and he works for me. I look forward to reprogramming you though, you don't need a lot of intelligence to use an axe!"

The next sound was a scream, that cut off suddenly.

B'Elanna had been leaning on a terminal, she started as the whole system came to life. Desperately she scrabbled with it to get things under control, shouting at her team to do the same. Eventually she hit her communicator, "Captain, everything just came on line at once, what happened?"

The Captains voice came down, "I think the reason for the change is standing up here in the Mess, ask the Colonel to come back up would you!"

"My compliments, Miss Nine, may I escort you to the Mess Deck? I believe there is someone we ought to thank," the Colonel asked, bowing.

For the first time he saw Seven of Nine actually smile. "I shall accompany you," she announced, taking his proffered arm. Together they led the puzzled Engineering crew to the Mess Hall.

"It was almost worth the aggravation just to see you smile once," he murmured.

"It is not a course of action I intend to employ again," she replied.

  
  


In the Mess Hall, Miller slammed to attention and saluted, as he spotted the Colonel walk towards him.

"Mission accomplished Sir!"

"I owe you a great many thanks Corporal!" Said the Colonel. "Why did you stand watch over Miss Nine?"

"I couldn't let the bastard have your lady, Sir. She's much too good for you, Sir," the Corporal announced.

The Colonel stiffened at the double meaning.

"I thank you as well Mr Miller, for my rescue," declared Seven of Nine, to everybody's amazement she leant forward and kissed the little Corporal on the cheek. He visibly swelled with pride in front of the gathering.

"Don't let it go to to your head Corporal. Remember messing with the Colonel's lady is a hanging offence," the Colonel reminded.

"Now, where did you put the Doctor?"

"He's in the terminal in the medical bay, sir. I slipped the locking codes to Miss Nine before I slammed the door on him. I'm afraid I had to break every security code on the ship to get him there though," he announced.

"I'm sure they can be put back in place. Maybe you can help them devise a code that you can't break in a couple of seconds?" The Colonel suggested.

He turned towards the Captain. "Captain, may I present Corporal Christopher 'The Hack' Miller, late of the 60th Regiment. Corporal, Captain Kathryn Janeway, Commander of the vessel you just saved." 

"And Corporal before you say something you shouldn't, the same penalty awaits you if you try and mess with the Captain," he added.

"Sir!" The Corporal replied, disappointed.

"I can only mirror your Colonel's thanks, Corporal. I don't know how you did it, or how he arranged for you to do it."

"Miss Nine wrote the programme, Ma'am."

The Colonel cringed.

"The Colonel just gave her the parameters. But, you know, I think after all these years he's starting to get the hang of them," he confided.

"Corporal, I believe you have another date to attend. So bugger off, there's a good chap, before you leave me totally bare," the Colonel suggested gently.

The Corporal saluted the gathering again and disappeared. 

"He's a good man, but inclined to be a bit loose mouthed," The Colonel confided to the Captain.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Captain. I have had a long day, I shall turn in!" The Colonel saluted the gathering, turned and walked towards Tuvok.

"My compliments Commander. I believe you have a nice quiet cot available in your brig. I believe I am still under close arrest, will you lead?" The Colonel asked, holding out his arms, hands together, in an act of submission again.

"Restraints are not required, Colonel," Tuvok announced. "You have been freed."

"I am also homeless, I have no billet," the Colonel pointed out.

"You have quarters on deck 3," protested Tuvok.

"Had, Lieutenant. Had. They belong to Miss Nine. It would be improper to ask for them back! Perhaps she will invite me in some day for tea."

"Very well Colonel, follow me," said Tuvok, not wishing to provoke an argument.

Seven of Nine watched the tall soldier follow Tuvok, en-route to the brig. 

She had felt so close to the Colonel, when he held her in engineering, but he was forcing himself away again. She felt her eyes start to burn. "Captain," she whispered in a small voice, "does he still want me?"

The Captain, who had been trying to work out the Colonels actions herself, stared at her in amazement. "Of course he does, he wants you to be sure you want him! You've seen some of his dark and uncontrolled side. It may weigh more heavily on you than his caring side. Just give yourself a couple of days to think!"

Without speaking again Seven picked up his pack. She blanched at the weight, but managed to throw it onto her back and staggered out the mess.

"Then perhaps not!" The Captain thought, smiling.

"Okay, people!" She announced, clapping her hands to make herself the focus of attention. "It's late, the excitement is over, lets get back to our duties."

"What do we do about the Doctor?" Asked Chakotay quietly.

"I'm not in the mood to think about him or the consequences tonight," she announced firmly. 

"What if he gets out again?"

"If that Corporal Miller cracked every security code on the ship, protected Seven of Nine, trapped the Doctor in a single terminal, and turned everything on again in less than an hour. I doubt anybody's going to break into something he's created that quickly!" She announced firmly.

  
  


Seven of Nine sat in her new quarter's, carefully unpacking the Colonel's belongings, then equally carefully put them in their customary place in the room. The room was more comfortable she thought, knowing the Colonels belongings were neatly installed in the wardrobe and draws. She found his notebook diary. After nine months on the ship, he still insisted on using paper and pen to maintain his logs. Unable to resist, she opened it and flipped through the pages. Most were in the Colonels curious spidery short hand, noting his working outs and progress on various problems. But one page stood out as a plain text list, she studied it carefully and realised it was a poem. Carefully she read it aloud to herself.

  
  


"How great is my love for thee?

As great as the mountains?

Greater,

As great as the oceans of the world?

Greater,

As great as the sun?

Greater,

As great as the galaxy?

My love for thee is greater than these.

  
  


How long will I love thee?

As long as the giant elephant?

Longer,

As long as the mighty redwoods live?

Longer,

As long as there is air to breathe?

Longer,

As long as the stars shine?

My love for thee will last longer than these."

  
  


"And I Love Thee Too!" She concluded softly. She closed the book and put it in its place in the draw. She undressed and climbed into bed. Cuddling her teddy bear fiercely, she fell to sleep.

  
  


The first port of call the Captain made on getting up in the morning was to the brig. She found the Colonel working at the drop down desk in the cell.

"Good morning, Maam!" He announced cheerfully as she entered.

"I must say security is awfully lax here. They forgot to close the door. Prisoners could escape and anybody could walk in," he complained. "Nor should the guard smile when they deliver breakfast to the condemned," he added. 

"I'll do something about it," she promised.

"What are you working on?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Miss Nine delivered this along with a hammer," he said, showing her the doctors emitter. "I think, she thought I might like to take revenge. I fear she's learning bad habits from me."

"As it's still largely in one piece, I assume you had better thoughts?" She asked, her curiosity still gnawing at her.

"I don't like technology, Captain. I find it makes simple things more complicated. But I have to live with it. I am also a nosey bastard. I like to try and find out what makes things tick!"

"Did you find anything?"

"Hold out your hand," he commanded. 

She did as she was told and he emptied the contents of a slip of paper onto it.

"What is it?" She asked, peering at it closely at the flecks.

"At a guess, it's Copper Sulphate," he dripped some water on her hand and they watched as the flecks started to turn from white to blue. "In short the doctor caught verdigris on Kellor!"

She stared at the crystals as they formed in her hand.

"For the lack of a nail, the ship was lost," quoted the Colonel. "His emitter isnt gas tight.

"We need to correct the doctors programmes, and we still have security systems unprotected, may we borrow Corporal Miller?" She asked.

"I'm sure it can be arranged," he assured her.

"If Seven and the Doctor had really got together on their own, would you have accepted it?" She asked curiously.

"Yes! Not happily perhaps, but if it was her own decision, then their would be no hesitation. And I would have left the ship, for both of their sakes!"

"There are a couple of things, before you go, Captain," he announced.

"Yes!" She said, raising her eyebrows.

"Miss Nine invited me to dinner tonight and asked me to share her quarters."

"So?"

"I said I would have to ask permission from you, as her Commanding Officer."

She stared at him, then collapsed on the cot shaking her head in wonderment. "Another of your 'Regulations'.?"

"Ma'am, the number of regulations I've marched through in the last 24 hours, would have the Courts Martial put me in front of a firing squad before I cross the Courts threshold. I don't intend to break any more until necessary." 

"Provided dinner is either after or before the presentation tonight, you may do anything she wants you to do! As for the quarters they are officially still yours, not Seven's."

"A lady always has first call for a dwelling place in my book, Ma'am. Miss Nine had no quarters. I shall arrange to take accommodation on the crew decks, with your permission, Ma'am?"

The Captain sighed reflectively. "Make a suitable accommodation with Seven, ensure you both get some privacy. But you will upset her immensely if you try and separate from her like that!"

"Thank you, Captain. I think."

She left him.

  
  


The morning staff meeting was a boisterous affair.

"How much damage has been repaired?" asked the Captain.

"We've got warp engines online," reported Torres. "But we are walking on egg shells down there. There are over 40,000 security lockouts and interlocks that prevent us doing things in the wrong order, that Corporal Miller has cleared them all. It will take months to put them back again!"

"I have obtained the services of Corporal Miller, will that help?" she asked.

"That will do nicely, Captain," Torres replied smiling.

"The Doctor is another problem," Chakotay announced. "We will need Miller to treat him as well."

  
  


The reconstituted doctor was sought out by the Colonel, at the presentation. Reclaiming the Doctors programmes had taken the redoubtable Miller and Lietenant Torres four hours of work. The time it had taken him had upset the little Corporal. But he cheered up considerably after being kissed by both Torres and Seven of Nine. The little Corporal never had much of a social life with the ladies the Colonel had pointed out. To be popular with two attractive young women, even for a moment, would be better than all the Christmases he had ever had all rolled into one. The Colonel hoped it wouldn't go to his head.

"I'm very sorry for what I did..." The Doctor started.

The Colonel stopped him. "Doctor, we never were or will be close friends. You are an amalgam of things I dislike, the medical profession and technology. I will continue to respect you for your professional abilities and I will not hold a grudge against you, a soldiers life is too short for that. If anything you may have done me a favour. The person you should be grovelling to for forgiveness, is Miss Nine. I trust you will do so and be convincing, because she will need your professional assistance and she must trust you."

"What should I do?" The doctor asked humbly.

"You could start by throwing away those medical texts you have about human emotions, at best they are wrong, at worst they are downright bloody dangerous. Start learning about real people, if you work at it hard enough after a few years you'll start to know how they will react."

"That's very deep Colonel," claimed Captain Janeway, as she joined them.

"Madam," he intoned, "I have been working with people for more than thirty years. Getting them to do things they wouldn't normally do and do it willingly and safely. That's what a commander does, not computer programming, engine plumbing or star gazing. There is always going to be people who can do that for you, all you have to do is identify them."

"Did you ever meet Freud?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am, he was before my time. I understand he was an unfortunate man, who thought he could people into books as examples for other unfortunate men like the Doctor. It doesn't work!"

"It's time for your presentation," she claimed, changing the subject.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Crew and Family of the Voyager!" She called.

"A little over nine months ago, we found a derelict ship. It was a vessel from our own quadrant. On that ship was a wounded man, more dead than alive. He was lost and marooned in the wrong time and place. We took him in and made him part of our family, we've tried to teach him our ways, not expecting to learn from a man who was born over 600 years ago. But I find that the values and the wisdom he uses are often better founded than my own. I have learned to respect his opinions and we have learned as much from him as he has from us. It is therefore an inadequate honour to have to bestow upon Lieutenant Colonel Alan Samuels the certificates and effective rank of Star Fleet Ensign. Heaven help Star Fleet if they don't make him Admiral when we get home!"

The Colonel stepped forward, slamming to attention. Captain Janeway fastened a stud to the collar of his dress uniform, then kissed him. 

Stunned he was temporarily lost for words. "Thank you Ma'am," he managed.

"You have a presentation of your own," Janeway prompted.

"Yes, Thank you, Ma'am," he breathed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, hopefully even friends!" There was a general laugh amongst the gathering.

"I must confess before I start, that most of this ship is still black magic to me," he admitted, "I therefore thank everybody in advance for their help and patience!"

"I wrote a little speech on my cuff before I came here. It's one of the benefits of modern technology to be able to throw the thing away rather than have to try and clean it for next time. Unfortunately the Captain has rendered it inappropriate already, so this will be virtually 'off the cuff', not physically" he continued. The weak joke prompting more laughter.

"In my time, the Twentieth Century, for anybody who's been asleep. It was customary to give medals to those that performed better than expected. In my own regiment, a Sergeants panel presented a laurel badge to those it felt performed in the best traditions of the regiment, i.e. Did something brave, stupid and foolhardy. A few were even given to those outside the regiment who actually impressed us. The Captain has permitted me to present a couple of those tonight. For their actions under my command on Kellor would Lieutenants Torres and Paris and Miss Seven of Nine step forward, please."

Wonderingly they stepped forward. Torres and Paris attempting to achieve as straight an alert state as the Colonel had done. Gently he attached the small wreath badges to their collars, then stepped back and saluted them.

"I also have one more badge to give. The worth of the victim has been impressed upon me by everybody in the crew and believe me I've counselled everyone. So you could say it is your award to a brave person. Captain Kathryn Janeway, if you please."

She gasped in shock. Chakotay and Tuvok, gently but firmly, pushed her forward and held her up, whilst he pinned the badge to her collar. Again he saluted her, "Ma'am".

Desperately she tried to find her voice, but only tears were available. 

The ever supportive Chakotay spoke for her, "From what we know of and have seen of the Colonel in action. I believe, any award he is prepared to give, can only be the highest possible value and must therefore be more than well deserved. We have all been with the Captain when she has had to make difficult decisions in dangerous circumstances. Even when we thought they were the wrong ones, we have followed her trusting in her to prove us wrong, which she does almost everytime. I believe the Colonels award is well justified."

The assembly burst into spontaneous cheers. Then pressed forward to try and see the little emblems.

Under the cover of the commotion the Colonel and Seven of Nine escaped to their quarters.

"Well Miss Nine. What are your instructions?" He asked.

"I desire an extended period of comforting. You will provide it," she announced firmly, wrapping her arms around him.

  



	7. 1-07 Shadows

A quick question for the readers. Do you prefer these stories posted as a single file like this and the others, or as parts as is common practise. I understand longer stories take longer to load, but they are easier to follow. Comments?

ray

**1-07 Shadows**

_Tuvok takes Seven of Nine on a mission to investigate unusual gravitational influences. The Colonel shows extremes of reaction, which leads him into hot water with the Captain when they find more than they bargained for as they chase shadows...._

_Voyager and her crew are copyright of Paramount. The Colonel and additional characters are mine. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The storyline is my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story@rgower.plus.com._

_This is the sixth story in a sequence, if you want to know why things have occurred I heartily recommend you start at story 1-01 Castaway._

_This story is rated as PG_

_©R Gower 2000_

  
  


"Seven!" Captain Janeway announced briskly, entering Astrometrics. She came to a halt and observed her ex-Borg's reaction to her hail with interest.

Seven of Nine stiffened and hesitated for, what to her, was an unusual delay, before responding nervously. She turned from her console she was working upon. She had a good idea as to what was to come next, she had promised to carry out a long range sensor scan for two days now, but had significantly failed to make any headway.

"When are you intending to carry out my scans?" The Captain asked on cue, "I was rather expecting it to be done by now."

"The Colonel was having difficulty with the principles of multi-dimensional navigation," Seven responded automatically, "Our lessons over ran by a considerable margin. I was unable to carry out the scan before I required regeneration."

The Captain sighed. Seven of Nine's fascination with the Colonel and her determination to see him succeed in adapting to live in her technological world, was every bit as bad as Chakotay had claimed the day before and it was starting to affect her performance.

"When I asked you to teach the Colonel our ways, I didn't mean at the expense of your regular duties," she chided gently, approaching the young woman, her arms open in gentle friendship, "Things like long range Astrometrics come under your regular duties, do they not?"

"I am sorry, Captain. I shall carry out your orders today," Seven managed to sound contrite. She could find no other logical response or excuse to add to the statement.

"That's what you've been saying for the last three days," the Captain reminded her. "It's not like you to fail to do what you've promised. It's not good enough!"

"I am sorry, Captain," Seven responded again.

"I know you are fond of him, and you are desperate for him to succeed so that he feels at home here," the Captain claimed gently. "I know you think he is of great benefit to you personally and I am very happy for you. But I can't lose your efficiency for it. It's important to you and it could put the ship in danger. I will reassign him to somebody else to look after."

"No!" Exclaimed Seven in desperation, "Please Captain. I will carry out my duties as promised," she implored.

"I think it best," Janeway responded determinedly. Not for the first time she marvelled at the emotions that the normally impassive Seven of Nine presented when the discussion was turned to the Colonel. 

"At least for a few days, until you come to terms with the difference between your feelings and your duty and I get my scans." She compromised. "Besides somebody different may help him get past his problems, and you will still be able to hold your 'Confessional' when you're off duty. Where is he by the way?"

"I believed that a practical demonstration of astro navigation may help him get around his current difficulties. I have arranged a holodeck shuttle demonstration, it will also form his first practical flying lesson on a shuttle."

"Sounds like a good idea, I'll see if Tom Paris will take him on today," the Captain turned to go.

"Captain, have you been in love?" Seven of Nine queried, stopping her in her tracks, forcing her to turn back.

"I have been studying Star Fleet texts and fiction on the subject so that I may identify my emotions," Seven of Nine explained. "There are similarities."

"Yes I have, several times. That's why I know your in love," she admitted, "And I had a very similar conversation with my Captain over my first love, only he was much less sympathetic. He had me transferred from his ship within a week, because I couldn't separate my feelings for him from my duty." 

"Now will I get my scans?" She grinned

"I shall comply." Seven agreed. Still sounding a little reluctant.

  
  


The Colonel was waiting fretfully for Seven of Nine outside the holodeck. She was late, very unlike his tutor, he thought. Idly he speculated as to the reason, could she have finally got bored with him, perhaps? An idea he decided that had little appeal anymore, he actually liked being in the company of the outwardly cool and dispassionate blonde, a very rare feeling for him and he allowed himself the thought that might be unlikely, given the recent events that had befallen them both.

Rather than give himself over to idle and fruitless speculation he took out the flute he always carried with him and started to play, losing himself to the music. 

It was this activity that the Captain found him indulging in some 45 minutes later. 

She had heard the haunting music echoing down the corridor as soon as she had exited the turbo lift and approached him spell bound. Suddenly he stopped and spun around to face her, snapping to attention and saluting as he always did in her presence. The action amused her as it always did, there was something comically incongruous in his strict adherence to formality in the face of the easy standards of Star Fleet.

"Sorry Ma'am," he apologised. "I was waiting for Miss Nine. She seems to think I need to learn to fly a shuttle, but she is unusually late. So I engaged in a little music to pass the time."

"The music was lovely," the Captain complimented, "But you will have a long wait for Seven, I've relieved her, she will not be your tutor for a while at least."

"Ma'am?" He questioned.

He could express a lot of emotions in that single word, she decided. This time it was a mixture of disappointment and relief, as well as the obvious implied question of why?

"If you're worried that her feelings for you have been reduced, then don't. I've relieved her because she has got too attached to you, she was starting to ignore her duty," she informed him calmly.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I'm afraid that is my fault. I think Miss Nine finds me an incompetent but enthusiastic student, and my desire to succeed tends to get in the way. I should have realised she had other duties to perform and I was interfering with them," he apologised profusely. "If you wish I will endeavour to curtail our relationship?"

"Don't you dare!" She stormed at him in shock. "Your the first person she's looked at voluntarily and got involved with. I'd hate to break her heart when she's only just found she has one. She would never speak to me again!"

Then she laughed. "I'm not working to your Regulations," she pointed out, "I'm not going to have her keel hauled, flogged, or anything else from your book, I'm simply giving her the chance to remember she has other functions on this ship other than looking after you!"

"Ma'am," he responded, his relief showing.

"I was thinking of getting Tom Paris to teach you shuttle control, but he is off duty, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to test you and see for myself how well you're doing," she teased him, attempting to unsettle the cool soldier.

"To be honest, Ma'am, It is quite a relief. I fear I may disappoint her again." He admitted.

"Your supposed to be terrified of being taught by the Captain, I was!" She laughed freely, the ruse had failed totally.

She started the simulation and entered the holodeck, with the Colonel following closely behind. Quickly he sat himself at the pilot's console and scanned the panel.

"Do I need to go over the controls?" She asked quietly, unsure about how far Seven had taken him.

"This bank of pads control thrust, these direction, these pitch and roll, the indicators beside them give values for each as scroll bars, the pads across the top are controls for navigation," he intoned quietly.

"That's good going," she complimented. 

"I read the manuals very carefully," he confessed. "But I've not tried them in practise yet."

"We'll see how you do then. Do you think you can get us airborne?" She challenged.

"I can try, Ma'am," he announced quietly. "If it proves to be anything like an aeroplane, getting in the air is the least of my problems.".

Gently he set the thrust vector and increased power to the engines, until the shuttle lurched. As soon as he felt it lurch he started to reduce power again to prevent it soaring, but not quick enough, the simulator soared into the sky, it came down again just as quickly as he over did the reduction and it banged to the ground again.

"Bugger!" He exclaimed in frustration. "Sorry Ma'am!"

"Ignore the manual," she informed him gently. "Rather than try to bring the shuttle to a hover, redirect the thrust to get the shuttle moving, then you won't have to reduce power so much and you aren't so likely to over compensate."

He tried again, using the Captains instructions as his guide. This time he succeeded in keeping the shuttle in the air, but it was bobbing like a yo-yo as he tried to match speed and the thrust vectoring into a smooth correlation. The shuttle leapt out of the simulated shuttle bay at an alarming velocity.

"This is worse than a helicopter," he cursed, a bead of sweat appearing on his brow. Irritably he wiped it away. 

"Thank you Ma'am. We seem to be airborne," he announced carefully.

"I've seen worse takeoffs," she admitted as consolation. "But I can't remember when, certainly not since Academy!" 

"Now see if you can bring us to a hover. Apply 25% reverse thrust until you see the velocity reduce, then cut power. When our speed reaches about 100 Km/h apply a short burst to forward propulsion, that will slow a deceleration. Remember there is no gravity here, so you need thrust to slow down then more power to stop," she instructed. 

"It is quite a balancing act, that's why there's a pad on the console to do it automatically," she confided. "You can use it if you need to, the manoeuvre takes a lot of practice."

The Colonel struggled to bring the craft to a halt manually for a full ten minutes, then finally hit the stop button in desperation.

"Disengage the auto pilot and hold us here manually on thrusters," she instructed impassively.

He did as he was bid and spent another frantic few minutes attempting to keep the shuttle stationary.

After a few minutes of this torture, the Captain relented, and put the shuttle back on automatic again.

"Not bad, for a first effort," she admitted. "But you must control the urge to over compensate, you could have to do it for real when there are things to hit and that would never do for Seven's prized pupil!"

"I'm sorry Ma'am. I keep thinking aeroplanes," he confessed. "I shouldn't I know, this is nothing like an aircraft. All the controls are wrong and don't respond properly, and there's no gravity to help."

"Okay, now you've rested, let's see how your navigation holds out. Set course for a point 994.301Z789," she commanded. "We'll see how far out you are?"

"Ma'am," he responded, bending to the task set him.

After a few minutes he sat up again, "Course computed and laid in, Captain," he announced.

The Captain examined the course carefully. "Try it," she suggested gently. "It's out, but not as badly as Seven would have me believe."

"Ma'am!" He acknowledged happily. "Engaging the warp drive."

"Permission to speak, Ma'am?" He asked quietly.

Surprised she removed her hand from the control combination that would speed up the simulation. "Certainly, Colonel."

"Why did you give me permission to use Miss Nine's quarters?"

She thought carefully before answering, unsure of her own reasoning and how he would accept it. She did not think he would like her superficial reasoning. That she wanted to see Seven heavily and intimately involved with somebody, to prevent her taking such a close interest in the activities of others. Even easing Seven of Nine's own loneliness. She suspected that the Colonel would take umbrage at such forced' arranging and would walk out there and then. She did not want to see that happen, not to Seven and not for her own peace of mind.

"You know, you've made a really big impression on Seven, don't you?" She answered quietly. "It was evident since before that dinner you organised. The only problem is that neither of you will admit just how deep it is. Seven because she doesn't know what it is she's feeling, you because you're scared of it. The quarters she uses are still yours, you gave them to her not us. If you hadn't, I think she would still be in your quarters, either engaging in your 'Confessional' or sleeping in your bed and you would continue to talk to her in the way you have, then sit by her as she slept. She is that besotted with you and you're too much of a gentleman to take a natural advantage. I'm simply bowing to the inevitable. Besides there are no other spare quarters."

"But her reputation, Ma'am!" He protested.

"With you, it's safe!" She laughed. "I would trust you with anybody." 

"And the crew?"

"The crew have accepted it in the same way I have. They know you go to Cargo Bay 2 to sleep, if you're uncomfortable in her presence. What sort of routine are you using?"

"I use the bed when she needs to regenerate. Otherwise it depends upon the situation. I either use the Cargo Bay or a chair. Sometimes she wants comforting, so I offer that. But there are times when she needs more than I can legitimately give." He explained wistfully. "What happens when she comes to her senses and throws me out? You know it can't last?"

"If it does I'll find you somewhere else!" She promised.

They sank into silence for a few minutes. "I wish I had someone like you!" She admitted coyly. "Somebody who simply listened to my problems, without judging. Then comforted me and helped me work out the solutions. It is the ultimate dream. If Seven throws you out, I'll let you use mine." She threatened with a smile.

His reply was both sad and serious. "With respect, Ma'am. You know too little about me to make a statement like that. Miss Nine is learning and finds it easier to accept than you would, but I'm not sure she will like all of it!"

Involuntarily she shuddered at the suggestion of more skeletons in the Colonel's closet.

"We appear to have arrived at our destination. How far out are we?" She asked bringing them back to their mission.

"Approximately 150,000 Klicks, Ma'am." He announced, then remembered where he was, "Sorry Ma'am, soldier slang. 150,000 Km."

"As I suspected, Seven wants you to be as accurate as she is. It's within Star Fleet tolerances. In reality you would check and correct your course enroute." She announced. 

"Now see if you can get us back to the ship, you will need to be a little more accurate and adjust course in flight."

"Aye, Ma'am," He responded automatically, starting the recalculation.

"Where you a good airplane pilot?" She asked as the simulated Warp drive was engaged again.

He thought for a moment. "It depends upon your definition, Ma'am. I've walked away from every crash so far, the Navy good naturedly call that a good pilot. I have been shot down once, wrapped a few on landing. One was not my fault, the aircraft I was in was involved in a mid air collision with a light aircraft and we came in 'Dead Stick', without engines. The other two I wasn't concentrating properly. So I suppose the answer is not really." He offered.

She laughed ghoulishly, "From that I'd say it's like everything else you get involved in. If there is a crisis your the man for the front seat, otherwise you're not interested?"

"I'm very good at not dying, Ma'am," He offered obliquely as answer.

"Apart from Seven is there anything you are scared of?" She asked with a laugh. "It's obviously not danger!"

"Lots, Ma'am." He admitted. "Like right now I'm terrified I might not find the ship and you'll be upset."

It was said lightly, but she saw a dark cloud pass over his face again. There was something a lot deeper inside this soldier than the seemingly open and friendly attitude, she realised. She wondered how much Seven had drawn from him in their discussions. Carefully she avoided the subject again, there would be another and more appropriate time to probe, she decided.

"Do you want to try a manual landing?" She asked pleasantly, changing the subject. "Or should we let you off with a tractor guided one?"

"If you've got the time, I'm prepared to try a manual one?" The Colonel volunteered.

She smiled at the offer, he was trying to take the training seriously. "I'll give you one attempt," she agreed. "After that we let the tractor beam take us in. Imagine it as an emergency landing if it will help?"

"One of my many faults is a lack of imagination, Ma'am," He replied, carefully lining the shuttle with the hanger bay. "But I thank you for the suggestion."

His landing was considerably better than his take off, the Captain decided, but nowhere near good. "I think you need a lot more practise!" She claimed at last, as he shut down the engines. 

"But you need to learn the mundane is as important as the odd crisis. I don't doubt you're a good man to have in a crisis, but real life is full of the mundane as well, even on this ship!"

"Aye Ma'am." He acknowledged calmly.

"What are your plans for this afternoon?"

"I have an appointment with Miss Wildman after lunch, then I was due to assist Miss Nine in an inspection of some power relays." He announced. "Under the circumstances, I assume you will wish me to cancel the latter. So I'll have a chat with Mr Neelix and see if we can make this evenings meal more palatable."

"Oh! I didn't know you had been drafted to teach Naomi? What's your subject?" She asked in surprise.

"No subject as such, Ma'am. More child minding. Bboth her mother and Neelix are otherwise engaged. I've been telling her stories and little things like that. I understand she wants to show me one of her holodeck stories today. It all helps pass the time."

"I'm sorry, finding something more useful for you to do has been difficult." She apologised.

"It's not your fault Ma'am. You have a full compliment of officers and they're all more technically capable aboard this ship than I'll ever be. Something will come along that suits." He assured her, brushing of the apology off easily.

She returned to the bridge, he turned for the Mess and his rendezvous.

  
  


"Anything to report?" She asked taking control of the ship from Tuvok.

"The first pass of Seven of Nine's long range scans is available." Replied her Vulcan Security Officer in his usual cool manner. "There are no regions of claimed space detected in the next one hundred light years. However we are picking up an unusual anomaly. I have requested that she concentrates scans there before extending for another sweep."

"What sort of anomaly?" She asked.

"I am uncertain, it appears it may be a concentration of remote gravity sources in a region of asteroids." Tuvok suggested. "I am awaiting the results of the enhanced scan."

"How was Colonel Samuels' shuttle lesson?" He enquired politely. Human pleasantries he had found helped make his Captain easier to work with. Something else to think about would stop her fretting for more information.

She smiled. "He's trying hard and he can do it, but he'll never be a good pilot. He finds it too dull." She sighed. 

"He made a good attempt at landing the shuttle in the hanger, but a real mess of the take off. His navigation is adequate." She explained. "There must be someway of making it seem more exciting?"

"I saw something on his face today, it looked like pain, anger and sadness all rolled into one. He's holding something back, it's big and nasty, but he won't tell anybody about it. You've taken him for some lessons, what's your assessment? Is Seven flogging a dead horse trying to make him like us?" She asked suddenly. 

"In combat, as a soldier, I rate him as excellent," Tuvok admitted, "But he dislikes and distrusts technology he does not understand. He is clever, but not intelligent, prone to violence and strong emotions. He is dangerous, employs unconventional and non Star Fleet solutions. I do not think he will qualify as a Star Fleet officer."

They descended into silence, until the summons came from Seven of Nine to attend Astrometrics to view the results of her enhanced sensor sweep. She nervously waited for the Captains response as she studied them with Tuvok.

"So there is something unexplainable amidst the rocks." Captain Janeway commented. "There may be something there that is of interest. Is there a reason for asteroids to be there?" 

"The region is heavily populated by asteroids moving in random orbits, that and the radiation signals suggest that there may have been several planetary systems that have collided." Seven informed her impassively. "The nature of their orbit suggests that there are a number of unidentifiable gravity sources. They are giving some natural Gamma radiation signals, but their exact nature cannot be ascertained without closer examination."

The Captain pondered the value of investigating, absentmindedly fiddling with her Comm Badge as she did so. "Show us the area on screen." She demanded.

Seven complied from her station. 

"It would be a little close." Captain Janeway admitted. "Is there something to be learned?"

"I have picked up a number of unexplained gravity phenomenon during the last two long range sweeps." Seven informed her calmly. "They have been outside our course, only an advanced Astrometrics scan has shown them, they did not register on standard sensors. There may be benefit in examining a source now that it is in our path in case we run into them again."

"Tom how long to circumnavigate the region?" The Captain asked over the intercom.

"Current velocity about six days Captain," He advised after a quick study of the controls.

"As opposed to two to go straight through," She reflected. "Can we configure the necessary sensors onto a probe?"

"A probe is not manoeuvrable enough to cope with the random orbits, Captain." Tuvok pointed out.

"Okay. Tuvok take Seven and a shuttle and investigate." She decided quickly. "We'll see you in a couple of days. Keep in touch." 

She saw Seven of Nines face twitch in annoyance and felt a tinge of regret for separating Seven from her beau. "She'll adapt to cope," She consoled herself.

  
  


"Miss Wildman." The Colonel announced himself to the nine year old girl. "You wished to show me your new story?"

A huge grin lit her face. "I wrote the programme myself!" She announced proudly. "It's the first one I've done on my own."

"You'll be a credit to Star Fleet and the Captain when you get home," The Colonel complimented her cheerfully. "Do you want to tell me what it's about, or shall we wait to see what happens?"

"I based it upon the story you told me yesterday," She chattered, taking his big hand in hers and pulling him towards the door. "The one where the children find treasure and are chased by pirates."

"And I'm the wicked pirate Captain Hook, I assume." He laughed.

"Oh no! Mummy says you could never be wicked." She informed him solemnly, "You're his first mate Mister Tibs. The one that comes to my rescue and makes the wicked Captain walk the plank."

He laughed. "I'm sure there are many who would disagree with your mother. But I thank you for the compliment and I will try to perform for you."

For the second time that day, Colonel Samuels found himself on the holodeck playing for a critical audience. It was not one that he thought he would be able to play to as well as well as the Captain, still he did his best. His fears were quickly confirmed, as he was told off by Naomi for getting too far ahead in her story.

"You're worse than Seven of Nine!" She criticised as the story wound to a fateful conclusion. "She's never any fun! She's never been a child!"

The statement stunned the Colonel, the reasoning of the last statement had never occurred to him before. "I am most terribly sorry, but we didn't have holodecks like this when I was a child. So this is rather new to me as well." He excused himself desperately.

Her face fell in response to his distress. Despite the Colonel's difficulty trying to conform to her story she had enjoyed the game and the company. Being allowed to tell a real adult off and get away with it was a rare treat. Besides that, the Colonel was one of the few people on the ship who would actually play with her in childish games. "I think next time I will make you the Captain, then I can push you off the plank!" She threatened.

"At your command!" He bowed to her, then fled for the door.

  
  


The Type 2 shuttle twisted away with Tuvok at the controls. "Flight time estimated at four hours." He advised, settling back in his seat for the duration.

"Affirmative." Seven of Nine responded distractedly, looking back towards Voyager. Tuvok noted the dejection in the normally unemotional ex-Borg. 

"You do not wish to be on this mission?" He asked blandly.

Seven of Nine turned towards him. "I am experiencing a desire to remain on the ship." She confessed uncertainly. "I am finding it difficult to identify a reason for such illogical desires."

"You wish the Colonel was here?" Tuvok asked carefully.

"His presence would have little benefit to the mission." She replied honestly.

"Never the less you feel his absence?" Tuvok persisted.

"The Captain believes I am neglecting my duty while in his presence." Seven said carefully, deliberately skirting the question.

"I have noticed that you have had difficulty concentrating." Tuvok observed calmly. "Such lapses can be caused by the presence of those you have feelings for, good or bad. I have noticed humans are particularly affected. As your human nature asserts itself you may find it has an effect on your emotions."

"The effects on my emotions are undesirable, Seven admitted uncomfortably. You have never been affected?"

"Vulcans can suffer emotions, when aroused they are expressed destructively." Tuvok admitted. "That is why we have learnt to discard emotion for logic. The Colonel also has destructive emotions, but they are not tempered by logic."

"The Colonel is too impulsive and violent." Tuvok complained "His intelligence levels and knowledge of our technology are well below that required by Star Fleet for duty and he has little interest in space exploration. It puzzles me what you and the Captain see in him?"

Seven looked up from her station and frowned. "He is proving adaptable and dependable. He is proving valuable in defence of the ship," she responded loyally. "He is also intelligent, but deploys it differently. He tries to understand our technology, but has limited experience dealing with it and struggles. But he is determined to achieve an acceptable level of competence. His experience has been in working with and understanding people, his abilities appear to exceed both the Captain's and the Doctor's."

"Perhaps we should place him with the Doctor to learn modern medical practices?" Tuvok responded tartly. "Then Mister Paris can be a full time pilot."

  
  


The shuttle came to a halt some four hours after they set off. It hovered just outside the asteroid belt as Seven of Nine engaged her modified sensors and attempted to plot a course towards the nearest gravity source.

"Course required 214.120." She advised at length. "I shall monitor our progress, there are a number of smaller meteors that cannot be tracked with reliability."

"Course corrected." Tuvok advised. "Ahead one quarter impulse."

The shuttle started to make it's way into the belt, with Tuvok making numerous small adjustments at Seven of Nine's cool commands as she identified new threats.

Suddenly and without warning the shuttle rocked violently.

"We are under attack!" Tuvok announced. "Warp drive is inoperable, applying emergency power to shields." 

"There is nothing on sensors." Advised Seven from her console.

Again the shuttle rocked as another power surge hit it.

"Tuvok to Voyager. We are under attack. Shields and power failing." Tuvok announced.

"I shall attempt to exit the asteroid field." He said, turning the shuttle hard to take it out the way they came.

For a brief moment he saw a shadow flit past the screen. He looked for it again, but it was no where to be seen.

A third and final devastating bolt hit them, sending the shuttle into a spin.

"Propulsion has failed, life support is failing." He announced calmly. "Diverting all emergency power to life support."

Seven of Nine checked her sensors readings "There is an asteroid 600 kilometres off the starboard quarter, it has a weak atmosphere, 10% standard gravity. I calculate we have enough velocity to reach it. The low gravity will allow us a comparatively safe landing."

"Assuming whoever is firing at us will allow us to land," commented Tuvok calmly, struggling to get the damaged shuttle to change course.

The shuttle spiralled in the general direction Seven of Nine had indicated.

"I have insufficient thrusters to allow us to lose sufficient speed," Tuvok warned, twenty minutes later, as the shuttle started to enter the weak atmosphere of the asteroid. "We will suffer severe damage. Divert all emergency power to structural integrity."

"We will lose life support," Seven warned.

"We can use emergency suits for a limited time."

Each helping the other, they struggled into emergency suits, finally clipping helmets down and terminating life support to the cabin.

The shuttle crashed into the rocky ground and bounced sending them reeling around the cabin like dried peas in a cup. It came down again, ripping the propulsion nacelles from the bottom of the shuttle before they were flung into the air again, finally coming down with a third and final crash.

Some where in the maelstrom of violence, Seven heard Tuvok shout something unintelligible, she felt her own suit catch on something hard and tear, then there was a sharp pain in her ribs and with a final crash she fell to the floor. A welcome blackness descended upon her, obliterating the pain from her body.

Tuvoks shout had been a scream of pain as he was smashed head first into the shuttles forward window, the helmets visor shattering in the impact. For a brief moment he had the feeling that he was being thrown through the force field that formed the window, then he was sent reeling over the back of the chair as the shuttle had lurched. In desperation he grabbed at a seat as he was thrown over it, then clung onto it as he was brought down hard onto the console behind. He too felt his suit catch and tear. As the wrecked shuttle came to a halt, he managed to crawl to a console and operate two controls, the first reactivated life support, the second set the shuttles emergency transponder. After that he to slumped into unconsciousness.

  
  


Aboard Voyager a stunned silence reigned, as Tuvok's Mayday came in, to be broken by Ensign Kim. "Nothing showing on sensors, Captain. I've lost the shuttle as well!"

"Tom take the Flyer, B'Elanna and the Doctor. See if you can find them," the Captain demanded quickly, her face pale from the shock.

"I think, if there is a possibility of a fight, don't you think the Colonel might be a better bet, Captain?" Tom Paris suggested quietly.

"Okay take him as well. But get on with it!" She snapped.

  
  


The Colonel appeared ten minutes after he was summoned, looking grim determined, and fully armed. Silently he took the seat indicated to him by B'Elanna Torres.

"Can't you just make do with a phasor?" She asked in resignation.

"When you can prove a phasor is as effective as blade and rifle. I'll consider it, Lieutenant" he replied bluntly, "I know I can kill a man at 400 yards with this rifle, and if I cut his throat with a knife I know he won't be on my back again an hour later. You can't make that claim with a laser gun."

She shook her head sadly, "We don't know there is anybody to fight yet!" She took her own place as Tom Paris launched the shuttle out of the Shuttle Bay.

Carefully the shuttle approached the asteroid field.

"I'm starting scans for the shuttle," announced Torres. "It will probably have crash landed on an asteroid."

"What about whatever shot at them?" Asked the Colonel. "It's reasonable to assume that Commander Tuvok knows when he's under attack."

"I'm keeping an eye on that as well," she assured him.

He grunted and gazed intently out of the window.

Suddenly he shouted. "Helm hard right! Now!"

Stunned Tom Paris didn't react quick enough for the Colonel's taste. He dived forward and smacked the helm and power controls, sending the shuttle careering off on a new course.

"What was that for?" Demanded Paris, fury clouding his boyish face.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. We were about to be rammed by something," he apologised quietly.

"Like what? I didn't see anything. B'Elanna, Doctor?" He responded in fury.

"Nothing on sensors," Torres assured them.

"I didn't see anything!" The Doctor admitted. "But I was watching the scans."

"I didn't see it properly," the Colonel admitted quietly. "Just a large dark shadow out the corner of my eye and an unpleasant feeling!"

"But there's nothing there. See the scans say it's clear!" Paris exclaimed in exasperation.

"I don't care what was on your scans, there was definitely something on an intercept course." the Colonel disputed petulantly. "I do not see things! Remember Miss Nine couldn't detect what was firing at them either."

"You made a dangerous diversion for a shuttle shadow and a 'feeling'?" Torres asked pointedly, thinking he had been suffering a hallucination.

"Yes!" He admitted hotly. "It may have escaped your notice but there are no shadows out here. Suddenly seeing one suggests that their is something there and very close. And my feelings have kept me alive for years!"

"Why not turn the shuttle around and take us back to the point where we were and see if the shadow is still there?" The Doctor suggested mildly, hoping to curtail the growing argument.

"Good idea, Doc!" responded Tom Paris rotating the shuttle to retrace it's route.

They approached the area cautiously.

"Still nothing on sensors!" Reported Torres calmly.

The Colonel was not going to be deflected by the seeming criticism. "If it was maintaining a steady course amongst this junk, it would be going that way." He pointed. "If you please Lieutenant Paris, humour me!"

Tom Paris turned the shuttle as requested and applied power. 

"Those asteroids ahead that are pulling apart, is there an obvious reason?" The Colonel asked suddenly.

"They are under the influence of one of the gravity sources Seven came to investigate?" Paris offered.

"In different directions? Surely we ought to know about it if they're that strong?" The Colonel asked reasonably, showing at least some of the knowledge Seven of Nine had imparted had stuck.

"You may have a point." Torres admitted, turning to her instruments again. "We should follow the path of your shadow until an analysis can be made."

"It's right beside us!" The Colonel announced a short time later. "I can just make it out, provided I'm not looking at it directly."

Both Tom and B'Elanna peered out the shuttle window, they saw nothing. 

"Don't look directly, just glance at it through the corner of your eye." He answered their questioning looks. "I assure you it is there." 

Tom tried the Colonel's suggestion and caught a glimpse of something. He couldn't describe it, it appeared to be an area of space slightly greyer but darker than the surrounding space. That was how he attempted to describe it to Torres and the Doctor. They had been incapable of picking up the vision.

"It must be absorbing our sensor output. I shall try to invert the sensors." Torres suggested at last and set to work at her console. "You will have to manually correct our course from the more obvious threats." She warned as she worked.

"I don't mind dodging things I can see," The Colonel remarked happily. "It's things I can't that put the wind up me!"

"Just don't loose the shadow until we can track it." B'Elanna demanded.

"The 'Shadow' is a projection." B'Elanna announced at last. "It has no physical mass in this Universe, it exists in a Temporal Universe."

"I'm sorry for being thick, but what does that mean? And if it's not here why is it pushing things out the way?" The Colonel asked guardedly.

She tried to explain. "At some point two or more timelines in an alternate Space Time Continum became entangled. The 'shadow' is probably an asteroid in another time that forms a link between the two. The random paths of the asteroids suggest they are also appearing in the alternate Universe. The influence of the two provides a repulsion field."

The Colonels eye's took on the look of somebody who didn't understand the explanation either, they glazed. "I'm sorry I asked, I understood that as well as the original. Can we stop following it now, before it decides it wants to join us, or worse, decides we should join it?"

"We need to gather more data." B'Elanna insisted.

"Lieutenant? Is it too late to point out that exploring things has little to do with me?" He begged of Tom Paris. in mock despair.

"It's your phenomenon, you found it, don't you want to know why it exists?" Paris asked.

"Unless it happens to have something to do with our missing shuttle, not particularly. I'd much rather leave it alone, thank you!"

"At least we can track it, so the danger is reduced and we should continue to search for the shuttle," The Doctor interposed again.

There was general agreement from the shuttles occupants, so Tom Paris swung the flyer back on its original course. Silence reigned as the crew strained to find the missing shuttle.

  
  


The rear door of the shuttle opened and two small and slightly built figures entered, their metallic suits hiding their identity. One was carrying a device that was obviously a weapon of some kind, the way he ported it, the second carried a case. From the case he took an instrument, which he activated. Satisfied with the readings from the display, he reached and removed the helmet from his suit. He signalled to his partner to do the same. The helmets revealed a thin reptilian face, a dark eye either side of a long and slightly pointed face. A long forked tongue slid out and 'tasted' the air.

"Too much Oxygen to stand for long, Shar!" The second hissed to his partner.

"But the temperature is okay and they will decompose quicker in this atmosphere, we can always open the door," Shar pointed out.

"You investigate the ship, I'll examine these two, Kather" he commanded.

"This ship is not from Hithrar, or from the species on the other side," commented the second, examining another instrument from the case, "The portal may have collided with another universe."

"I concur Kather. These two are different species, but I am unable to identify them without bio-scans. They are both mammals but should be satisfactory."

"Are they alive?" Kather demanded.

"They are, but not for long, I think. They require high levels of oxygen to survive and their ship is failing," replied Shar.

"We will do the memory scans whilst they are fresh," Kather suggested. "I'll put the scanner on the dark one, you do a physical inspection of the other."

So saying he reached into the case and withdrew a metal frame with long leads. He laid it beside Tuvok, then removed the shattered helmet from his head and located the frame around his skull. Reaching into the case for a second time he activated a switch. A blue haze formed around Tuvoks skull. "It will take some time, perhaps twenty clicks," he opined, examining the readings from the dials in the case.

His partner grunted, as he slit the space suit from Seven of Nine's body. "I think this one will be more responsive to the scan," he commented, "See how she twitches to a light touch." He demonstrated by dragging the nails of his hand down her stomach, watching Seven twitch spasmodically.

"I would say this is a female biped mammal. She is designed for live berth, mammary glands, wide hips, interior genitals," He announced examining her closely. "I do not understand the need for the mechanical apparatus attached to her cranium." He tapped the implant above her eye.

"Perhaps she is defective in some way?" Kather suggested. "We will find out when we attach the bio-scan." 

"They are ugly though, no scales and the external differences, why do they need them, can't they tell by taste?" He commented as he settled down to wait for the memory scan to complete.

"It is a pity they are so badly damaged, they would make interesting specimens to test and find out," Shar agreed comfortably, joining his partner.

  
  


After an hours fruitless search the Colonel commented. "The shuttle was shot at by an unseen enemy, we almost missed this projection thingy, are we looking in the right place?"

"What are you suggesting?" B'Elanna asked quietly.

"What I think I'm suggesting, he claimed guardedly. Is that the shuttle was hit by one of the projections and it is a portal of some sort. Most of these rocks we're dodging aren't a great magnitude bigger than the shuttle. If it crashed on one of them, or was simply floating dead, we ought to be able to find it comparatively easily, with all this whizzy technology. Are there any rocks of appreciable size?"

"I think you could be right, we're not getting anywhere here," agreed Torres cautiously. "But we can't go and simply fly onto one of the projections, we don't know what will happen!"

"And I thought you were explorers ready to plunge into the unknown!" The Colonel exclaimed. "Lets have a chat with the Captain and see what she suggests?"

Paris acknowledged the suggestion by opening a comms link to Voyager. 

"Flyer to Voyager."

"Janeway here, report!" Came the quick reply.

"There is no sign of the shuttle. But we've found what could be a portal to an alternate universe. The Colonel thinks that the shuttle may have been dragged in to that," he responded. "Do you want us to follow them?"

"Is there anyway of sending a probe in to try and find them?" She asked.

Tom looked at B'Elanna, she shrugged.

"We don't know!" He replied. "We aren't sure what sort of alternate universe it is!"

"Return to Voyager, we'll send a probe then we can consider the problem more carefully," ordered the Captain, closing the link.

Tom Paris turned the flyer about and set course for Voyager.

"Lieutenant Torres, how much longer could emergency life support last on the shuttle if it is there?" The Colonel asked quietly.

"Probably another five hours," she replied honestly.

"It will take us two to return to Voyager, say three for a probe to hit the right projection and locate them, another two for us to return. The numbers are awfully tight aren't they?"

"We can't just sit here," she pointed out.

"No we can't," he admitted thoughtfully examining the console in front of him.

The Colonel looked up. "Okay, Lady, Gentleman and photonic projection. Under the powers vested in me by my rank in Her Majesties Forces, I hereby commandeer the Delta Flyer in the name of the Queen of England. If anybody wishes to try to be violent, I would find it most regrettable and I promise not to use more than minimal force. Please put that hypodermic away Doctor."

"You're thinking of flying into a portal, even though you don't know where it goes or how to get back?" Paris asked in surprise.

"We must be able to get back if these rocks show on the other side," the Colonel reasoned. "If you do not wish to come. Then I am prepared to beam you onto Voyager?" He offered the option. "I'd prefer to take you all with me because your all better at this game than I am, but I'll not take anybody that is squeamish!"

"If you fail and the probe finds them it will be difficult to recover them and the Captain will hang us," Torres put in, alarmed by the suggestion.

"The only person the Captain will hang is me. I have committed an act of piracy, only legitimised by declaring rank. I see no other way for us to get to Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and Miss Nine before their life support fails. Get the Captain on the line again please Lieutenant."

"Janeway here!" Her reply came for the second time.

"Excuse me, Ma'am." The Colonel intercepted. "But we've done a few calculations here. By the time the probe finds the missing shuttle, it will in all probability be too late for it's occupants."

"There is little choice, I don't want to lose anymore crew," She replied uncomfortably.

"There is always a choice, Ma'am. I'm going to take the shuttle in. I'd rather have your blessing though. I'd also like to take it's crew with me, if both you and they are willing, but if not, then I'll return them to you and go on my own."

"You can't do that! It's piracy!" She screamed.

"I can, Ma'am, and I have. I have relieved the crew of the flyer. It comes under 'Requisitioning of Materiel in Emergency Situations' in the Queens Regulations. I'll supply the required paperwork when I return. I could also commandeer the crew as well Ma'am.." he warned.

On the bridge the Captain made a 'Cut my throat' action to kill the link, then looked at Chakotay in fury. "What does he think he's upto? What does he think he can achieve on his own?"

"I don't know, but he is right about life support on the shuttle, it would be very tight," Chakotay responded. "He will also do as he claims, whatever you decide."

"I know!" She hissed.

She took a deep breath to regain her composure. "Open the link!" She commanded.

Kim at his station did so.

"Tom, B'Elanna, how do you asses the situation? Are you prepared to follow the Colonel?" She asked.

Paris and Torres looked at each other. Torres gave a small nod of her head.

"Yes Captain, we'll go. He is right about the life support on the shuttle, if it was in anyway damaged they won't have that long." Tom relayed in resignation.

"Colonel, I suggest you wait and follow the probe in," the Captain agreed reluctantly. "But if you're in anyway wrong I'll have your head on a platter."

"Thank you, Ma'am. But if I'm wrong you won't have my head to serve, I won't be coming back!" He replied stiffly.

The Colonel turned to Tom Paris. "I think there is agreement, adjust course for that dark thing we almost rammed please, Mr Paris," he requested politely.

"I'm bringing the shields up," Torres announced.

"I think that may be a mistake," the Colonel suggested. "If this grey stuff is absorbing standard sensor output, it does not seem unreasonable for it to absorb the shields as well, does it?"

She thought for a moment. "I can invert the shield frequencies?" she offered.

"Will that help? We'll still be putting out emissions. I think I'd put my efforts in detecting whatever is on the other side before we hit it," he suggested mildly.

"Now Mister Paris. As I am about to violate the Captain's direct order, would you prefer me to take us through the portal, for your protection?"

Tom Paris shook his head in the negative.

  
  


Aboard the shuttle Seven of Nine was coming around slowly and painfully. She saw the two aliens watching something in the case. There was a fuzziness in her head and was having severe problems breathing, she couldn't determine why.

Involuntarily she groaned as the pain in her chest hit her. They looked around sharply. One reached for his discarded weapon, but the other stopped him.

"Who and what are you?" He hissed.

"My designation is Seven of Nine, human," she responded, then coughed violently sending wracks of pain shooting through her body. "I am damaged," she whispered.

"You will die soon, then we can eat!" The first assured her.

A look of realisation and horror passed across her face. You are cannibals, she whispered in shock as she passed into unconsciousness again.

  
  


The Delta Flyer with Tom Paris at the controls headed into the inky abyss that was a projection from another galaxy. He flew as slowly as he could, trying to give B'Elanna time to give warning of impending disasters. Even so there was only thirty seconds of blackness before they emerged into starlight again. He immediately brought the Flyer to a halt.

"Was there anything?" He asked in confusion, to the naked eye there was little difference between the two sides.

"Beats me," The Colonel admitted. "Make a note of our position, then perhaps we can go back the way we came in. Miss Torres, your opinion please?"

"The shadow is behind us," admitted Torres from her console. "And we're not where we were, the stars have been reversed!"

"So all we need is a white rabbit and the Queen of Hearts, then things will be complete!" The Colonel commented.

"Alice Through the Looking Glass," he explained to the confused looks. "Classic childrens literature, isn't there any fantasy in this century!" He pleaded.

"We are here so what now?" Paris asked, bringing them back to their immediate problem and avoiding having to answer the Colonel.

"Let's start at the beginning, with what we know," suggested the Colonel.

"We know that the shuttle was our side of the mirror when it was attacked, so it is reasonable to think they may have coasted through. Correct?" He queried.

"Yes!" Tom Paris agreed slowly.

"Miss Torres. Given that it is now some four hours since the shuttle was lost and that the rocks this side of the glass appear to be bigger and therefore presumably more stable in where they go. Are there any that would have been close to this point when they came through?"

"I don't know, I'll try and work it out. You are assuming that they came through the same hole and that it is static," She opined from her seat.

"I am gambling on a lot of things," he admitted. "Like I'm gambling on this being the same universe, it being the same window they fell through and it will still be here when we get back. If we have all that then the mathematics should be simple trigonometry. At least it should be to you!"

Torres bent to her terminal with a grin. Five minutes later she looked up. "I think we may be in with a chance!" She announced. "There are two asteroids big enough to land the shuttle on."

"Which would you use if you had a damaged shuttle?" He asked.

"Neither is what I'd call hospitable," she admitted. "But one looks as though it has an atmosphere of sorts, it's also smaller than the other, so there would be a better chance if the shuttle crashed."

"Excellent, we'll try there first. Mr Paris if you please, and somewhat faster than is safe if you will," he ordered.

"Aye Sir!" Paris responded.

"How long before the probe arrives?" The Colonel asked.

"About two hours. Why?" Torres said, checking the chronometer.

"Because if we're lucky we can use it to check how far the window moved, a sort of signpost," the Colonel explained patiently.

  
  


Aboard the Voyager, Ensign Kin swallowed hard and took a deep breath, before he dared tell the Captain that the Flyer had disappeared. It was a wise precaution as the Captain exploded from her chair in fury.

"He's done What!" She screamed.

The Flyer has disappeared," he repeated his warning. "There was no indication that they were under attack, or that there was anything infront of them. They were simply in empty space then they weren't there.

Perhaps they simply overshot the portal, suggested Chakotay hopefully. It must be as difficult for them to detect as us.

No. He's deliberately disobeyed my orders, she stormed. I told them not to go in before the probe entered. I want him brigged the moment they return! 

If they return, she added quietly considering her hands for a moment.

Kim, enhance the sensors, see if we can see anything inside the portal, she ordered looking up.

She slumped back into her chair to await the return of the shuttles in a mixture of fury and frustration.

  
  


With Tom Paris flying the shuttle as fast as he dared through the rock strewn space they caught the asteroid they were interested in less than forty minutes. As they entered orbit Torres exclaimed excitedly. "You were right, I've got the shuttles distress beacon."

"Where is it and will it be safe to beam down to the shuttle?" The Colonel asked urgently.

"I've got a fix, there are life signs, but I don't know about transporter safety," came her disconcerting reply.

"Can we test it? Or do we have to land?" He asked.

"Landing is the easiest," Paris volunteered.

"It's also the most dangerous if the enemy is still around," replied the Colonel evenly.

"I've nothing to test it with," Torres responded.

The Colonel grunted his disappointment at her, then turned to Tom Paris. "Tell me Lieutenant have you ever done a rolling drop?"

"What's that?" He asked.

"It's were you fly low and slow and I jump out the back with the Doctor."

"You're mad, it can't be done!" He protested.

"Nonsense, I used to do it all the time!" The Colonel responded cheerfully, "It should be easier here, you can fly lower and slower than a Hercules and there is less to pull me down."

"But you're not suit trained yet and if you trip and puncture the suit you'll suffocate in less than five minutes," protested Torres.

"It's time I learnt then. Let's get suited up. Doctor I suggest we deactivate you, then we'll reactivate you when we're on the ground. That way we're less likely to do you some damage. I assume it is possible to reactivate you remotely?"

"I can rig something up, Colonel," Torres replied.

The Colonel reached for one of the Emergency Survival suits and started to put it on as Torres explained the workings to him.

"If you do damage the suit, press this button, we'll beam you out immediately," she advised, pointing to a red button on the cuff.

He nodded his understanding. "Mr Paris, according to Miss Torres's mapping, there is a smoothish area about three miles from the shuttle. I want you to fly along it, as low and as slow as you can, about ten feet up and no faster than ten miles per hour would be ideal, but I'll leave that to you. As soon as I jump, get the hell away and wait for a signal. Keep on the look out for anything hostile. If possible avoid them, if not attack as though you mean it. Don't piss about with friendly greetings until they know you mean business. We're too far from useful support to be gentlemanly about things and we know they have shown hostile intent to our shuttle, so bugger Star Fleet protocols, you strike fast, first and hard," he demanded.

"Sir!" Paris responded tartly.

Tom Paris concentrating hard, brought the Flyer in as low and as slow as he dared, but he couldn't quite achieve the Colonel's desired specification, the terrain wasn't as flat as they had thought, tall and jagged rocks jutted from the sandy ground. "It'll do," he heard on the intercom, then there was B'Elanna shouting at him, "He's gone! I'm shutting the door!"

Desperately he applied power as the ship approached a new outcrop of rocks. The Flyer shot upwards, leaving the Colonel on the asteroid.

  
  


The Flyer shooting into the night sky again triggered a warning aboard the shuttle. The two Hithrar's looked at each other in surprise.

"We have company, Kather," hissed Shar in mild surprise, "Perhaps they are a rescue party for these two." 

"Maybe they will be more accommodating with information and die a little quicker?" Suggested Shar, "We should prepare deal with them."

Over the previous hour both Seven and Tuvok had woken, but had quickly subsided into unconsciousness again as the pain from their wounds overcame them. Leaving the two Hithrar's frustrated with only snatches of information about their captives. So far they had learnt that they were from somewhere called the Alpha Quadrant and they were members of the United Federation Star Ship Voyager. Their captives had claimed that a rescue attempt would be made, but as their mother ship was nowhere to be seen, it seemed unlikely they would arrive before they died. They had tried to entice them to send a signal to their mother ship, to get it to come for them, certain in the knowledge that Voyager's weapons and sensors would be as effective against them as the shuttles had been and the peculiar circumstances in their galaxy would quickly render the ship inoperable as it's vital life supporting energy was stripped away. But their captives were too badly injured and confused to make it practical.

They had also claimed to be peaceful explorers, but that seemed unlikely to them. They had discussed the concept of exploration for explorations sake in depth between themselves over the hour they had waited. 

In the Hithrar's galaxy, resources, particularly food and power, were too scarce to make simple exploration a viable proposition. There was a legend amongst their people that theirs was once a proud race that lived on many planets. But they had been destroyed, leaving the remains of their race to eek out an existence on the remains of those same planets. But that was many hundreds of generations ago, and they had since evolved to live in small groups on small planetoids. As a result they had become nomadic cannibals, prepared to fight and steal to obtain the food and supplies they required.

The concept of plentiful materials and power to waste was an anathema. The chronic lack of power caused by the rocks and dust of their known galaxy absorbing energy like a sponge, was what led them to the course of action they were now pursuing. They let their captives die, slowly and painfully if necessary. They lacked the physical strength in their spidery and ultra light bodies to kill in hand to hand fashion nor was there energy to waste to kill unless necessary.

The Hithrars were also cowards, both realising if one got hurt the other would not attempt to help them. 

They had discovered this particular zone of portals into other galaxies and universes by accident some fifteen months earlier. They had stayed because it had proven to be easy to obtain proteins from the ships that strayed into their universe and had subsequently been unable to find a way out again. 

In common with many reptilian life forms Hithrars were unable to feed directly on fresh flesh, so they waited for their food to start to decay before they could dine. They had managed to capture three more vessels, enticing them to pass through the portals by swift attacks from their ship. Now they waited patiently for the dead crews to decompose to suit their needs.

They rose from their seated positions and prepared to greet their prospective dinner.

  
  


The twenty foot drop from the flyer seemed to take an eternity to the Colonel, but the landing still came as a sharp surprise as he allowed his knees to buckle and himself to roll to a halt. He had omitted to tell Tom Paris that a rolling drop was usually conducted from pallets fitted with drag chutes, or that the aircraft was normally rolling on the ground to perform the action, believing that the low gravity on the asteroid and the Flyer's ability to fly slowly would more than compensate for the differences. A belief that was essentially correct, but still managed to knock the wind out of him as he crunched to the ground.

He picked himself up and retrieved his pack, from a pocket of which he took the Doctor's emitter, this he placed on the ground. "You can wake up now, Doctor," He called.

The Doctor shimmered into life infront of him.

"I assume that you won't have problems with the limited gravity?" The Colonel asked quietly.

"I have had to adjust my parameters to compensate," the Doctor complained.

"Think yourself lucky. I don't have parameters that can be adjusted like that. I think we will go that way," The Colonel pointed in a direction, "Then we can work our way up towards the shuttle and the rear door. Then perhaps we can see what we're up against without being seen so easily."

He set off at his usual quick pace, but quickly modified it to a slower sand shuffle' as he found that the low gravity was sending him six feet in the air at each pace and leaving him staggering as he came down again. "Bugger!" He fumed, as he settled back to a sand shuffle, "This will take forever!"

Even the his shortened pace brought them both up behind the shuttle in less than 40 minutes after setting off. They observed the stricken ship carefully from behind a ridge of rock. The rear door was open, invitingly. Too invitingly for the Colonel's preference, given the low levels of oxygen in the air. The Doctor was impatient to get to the shuttle, but the Colonel stopped him as he carefully scanned the surrounding area.

Finally he said. "You'll be quicker than me because of the lack of gravity. When I say go. Run like the clappers for the shuttle, once in shut and secure the door, until I say otherwise. I know there is somebody out here but I can't see them."

"There is nothing on the Tricorder," commented the Doctor.

"Then who opened the door?" The Colonel asked. "Certainly not our people. No, there is somebody else here. Now Go!" He pushed the Doctor forward, and resumed his scanning of the surroundings.

The Doctor started to walk forward. "I said run!" The Colonel shouted after him.

"There is nothing to be worried about.." The Doctor started, to be interrupted by the Colonel.

"Down!" He roared, catching sight of a green flash from behind another rocky outcrop some 80 yards away. He brought his rifle up and fired off a rapid burst, and was rewarded to see two figures leap up from behind their shelter and sprint away as rocky shards rained down around them. The way the rocks seemed to disintegrate as they were struck by the light bullets from his rifle puzzled him.

He leapt up himself and ran for the Doctor's last position. He found his emitter and picked it up and continued to sprint for the shuttle, heedless of the flying leaps he was taking. Arriving he threw the emitter through the door and closed it, simultaneously opening a communications channel with the Flyer, "Torres, the Doctor is down! Attempt remote activation. I have hostile company."

He sprinted after the fleeing aggressors.

  
  


Aboard the Flyer, Tom and B'Elanna had been concentrating on scanning for any form of ship, finding nothing in space they had started a sensor sweep of the asteroid for anything that may have been hidden there. They had easily detected the Colonel and Doctor making their way for the stricken shuttle, but otherwise there was nothing else.

She was also keeping an eye on a slow but steady power loss they were experiencing, she couldn't work out where it was going, but ships power was down by nearly 10%. In a fit of inspiration she turned the shields off. It had an effect, the power loss slowed down. She brought it to Tom Paris's attention.

We shouldn't be here for more than another hour or so, so it shouldn't be a severe problem, he thought out loud. Is there anything else we can turn off to reduce the power loss?

Nothing I can think of except the sensors, Torres suggested. They aren't achieving much!

The Colonel's emergency call caught them by surprise. Desperately B'Elanna turned for her jury rigged controls to reactivate the Doctor. It failed, frantically she tried again, with the same result.

"Colonel, I can't reactivate the Doctor, he must have been damaged!" She called over the comms link.

"Roger!" Came his now calm reply. "These buggers down here seem to be more at home here than I am. They certainly move quicker than I can and don't appear to be wearing protective clothing. So I'm going to have to wait for them to come to me. I'm returning to the shuttle. Keep an eye open, if they have a ship they may try and launch it!"

"Okay," Torres called. "We'll keep an eye open," She agreed pensively, though relieved that things weren't going any worse.

  
  


The Colonel made his way quickly back to the shuttle and entered. A quick glance was all he required to ensure he was free of undesirable intrusions. He picked up the Doctor's emitter and examined it. It appeared undamaged so he put it on a console. "Come on you lazy bugger," he swore at it. "I need your help, so stop sulking!" Nothing happened.

Resigned to the fact he was going to get no assistance from the Doctor, he removed his helmet and turned to examine his crew mates. 

Tuvok looked a mess, blood covering his face. A closer physical inspection suggested a broken arm and possibly a rib. He could see splinters in his face, but resisted the impulse to remove them for the moment, it would be easier on the Flyer and easier still on Voyager.

Seven of Nine was of more concern, her breathing was shallow her skin starting to turn slightly blue and pasty, she would need immediate attention. Again he cursed the Doctor for dithering on his way to the shuttle and getting damaged, then realised it probably wasn't all his fault, he wasn't a battlefield medic.

He called up the Flyer. "Miss Torres, we are definitely going to require the transporter. Beam us out one at a time, start with the Doctor's emitter to check you've got everything set right, let me know when you're happy." He commanded.

"Okay," came the reply. 

He watched as the Doctor's emitter faded, it seemed to take an unusual amount of time. He bent and splinted Tuvoks arm and taped his chest up as well as he could, whilst waiting for a signal from the Flyer. He had returned to Seven of Nine before it came.

"We've got him, but it's going to take some time to get you all out," Torres's voice floated to him.

"Roger, take Tuvok next. I've identified a broken arm and rib, lacerations to face, probably a broken nose, numerous splinter wounds. Nothing life threatening. Miss Nine is significantly worse. I think she may have a collapsed lung, I'm going to have to insert a catheter to drain the fluids, can Mr Paris offer medical advice?" He queried.

Aboard the Flyer Tom shook his head at Torres. "We don't treat people like that anymore, Colonel," she replied for him.

"How do you do it then?" The Colonel's voice screamed back at them.

"We use a medical transporter and beam it out," Paris replied easily.

"And I suppose you have one in your pocket?" The Colonel replied sarcastically. "Never mind I'll cope."

Quickly he searched the shuttle, finding a length of thin tubing he sought out a length of wire, ripping some heavy cabling from a control panel. He again returned to Seven of Nine, she was regaining consciousness.

"Hush sweetheart!" He whispered in her ear as she moaned. "I'm here, I'll look after you!" He wiped her fevered brow with a handkerchief.

"I can't breath!" She gasped.

"I know." He assured her. "I'm going to try and relieve that for you. You will feel a stab and a bit of pulling. But I don't think it will hurt as much as you're feeling now."

Quickly he cut part of her clothing away from her chest, thread the tubing over the wire he had obtained and tested the area of introduction. Gritting his teeth and praying he had chosen the right spot, remembered from his first aid training many years ago, he plunged the wire into the side of her chest. Pushed the tubing in, along the wire and pulled the wire out again, he was rewarded as blood and puss started to trickle out and her breathing almost immediately seemed to ease.

With a sigh of relief, he sat back on his haunches again, then leaning forward he kissed her firmly on the lips, blowing hard. She opened her eye's in surprise and tried to shake him off, but he held on as he tried to force the re-inflation of the lung, finally he pulled away. 

"You'll be alright now," he whispered breathlessly, gripping her hand firmly in his.

"Regaining his breath he opened the channel to the Flyer again. "Miss Torres are you ready for Miss Nine?"

"Just about. How is she?"

"I think she will be okay. I've drained the lung and it is re-inflating again, but I suggest you don't remove the catheter until you get to Voyager and/or the Doctor is available. How long before the probe arrives?"

"We reckon about thirty minutes."

"Take her now, please. I'm going to check and see if my guest's have returned. If it takes longer than five minutes to beam her up then get the hell out and get into position to meet the probe when it comes through the portal."

"Not without you!" Paris's voice came back instantly.

"I'm facing a life time in the Brig for insubordination, piracy and anything else the Captain can think of," Snapped the Colonel. "I might as well get it over with here. Do as I say, Mr Paris. I'm not important, your casualties are!"

With out waiting for a reply, he grabbed his rifle and pack again and headed for the door, hearing the faint buzz of the transporter taking hold of Seven of Nine. Carefully he opened it and peered out, then leapt for a rocky outcrop, there he dived to the ground, rolled and used the roll to bring him to his knees. He scanned the area for signs of life. Again he saw nothing, but a glitter caught his attention in the rock infront of him. Taking his bayonet he knocked at the rock around it. To his surprise the rocks crumbled easily as he chipped, revealing a cache of glittering translucent crystals. They appeared to be loose so he picked a large white one and examined it. He couldn't make it out properly, he had seen stones like these before, they had been rough diamonds. He slipped a couple of handfuls into his pack along with some of the rock he had broken with his knife. At least Sam Wildman would have something to examine when he got back. Then he kicked himself, there was not going to be a 'back' to go to. He was about to turn them out again, when he caught sight of a shadow lifting into the sky several miles away.

Opening a comms channel, he called, "Mr Paris, if you're still in the area, you have a bogie after you approximately ten miles from my current location. Time to go!"

"We're not leaving you, Colonel. We're beaming you out now!"

He felt the shimmer of the Transporter. "Get out you damned fool," he yelled in frustration.

  
  


Aboard the Flyer, Torres concentrating hard worked the transporter controls as quickly as she could. Beaming things out had proven a complex ritual of adjustment and readjustment as the particles reassembled themselves in the correct order. But the previous three had been progressively easier as she had found the frequencies required. 

Tom Paris in the pilots seat was scanning desperately for the potential threat. They had not detected the vessels take off at all, only knowing about it from the Colonel's shouted warning.

The Colonel appeared spitting feathers', struggling hard to regain his temper, as he knelt by Seven of Nine. She seemed to be breathing much easier and the bluish waxen look had faded from her face, but she was still far from well.

I suppose it is too much to ask if we intend getting out of here? he asked eventually.

We are, Paris assured him.

Not nearly quick enough, responded the Colonel. How long before the probe arrives?

Twenty minutes.

Time for us to reach the portal?

Too long. Mr Paris, step on it. We must be at the portal when the probe comes through to guarantee our stop, he commanded. If you can't do it, then come and look after Miss Nine and I'll drive.

I'll try, Tom Paris responded crisply.

Chances of getting the Doctor working again, Miss Torres? He asked, moving to check Tuvok.

None until we get back to the ship, she responded. There is something here that leeches power from the systems, it's not serious, but it drained the Doctor's power cell too quickly for me to recharge on the shuttle and I don't want to risk using the ships power to run him.

Perhaps you're right, the Colonel conceded. They don't appear to be in immediate danger now. We'll keep them sedated until we get back to the ship.

The shuttle rocked as an energy bolt hit them.

I can't see them, complained Tom Paris from his seat, sweating hard and recovering from the shock of coming under fire. We're losing power!

Then open the taps wide, see if we can outrun them, demanded the Colonel, crawling forward to sit beside Tom Paris.

Miss Torres, this ship has missiles as well as phasors doesn't it? He asked as another bolt hit them, draining more power.

She affirmed, curiously.

Can you configure them so they don't explode? I want to use them as cannonballs He explained quickly.

Yes, just a moment.

The shuttle rocked violently for a third time, throwing Tom Paris from his seat and leaving him dazed on the floor. The Colonel moved quickly into his seat and studied the controls.

Power is down to 40%, Torres called. The missiles are ready.

Good, keep track of the location of the portal, when I lose it tell me which way to go, he responded. Which button do I need to hit to fire the missiles?

The orange one on the right, half way up the panel, Torres responded automatically, wondering what he was about to do.

Her unasked question was answered immediately as the Colonel increased power to almost full impulse and drove the shuttle down and right, aiming directly for an asteroid.

You're going to kill us! She screamed at him.

I'm told this thing was designed to be the most robust and manoeuvrable vessel in the Galaxy. It's time we found out if it's true, the Colonel responded tartly.

He flipped the shuttle onto it's back as they approached the asteroid and pushed forward again, spinning it away around the back of the large meteorite, then twisted again to avoid another rock, then for a third time to put it on course for the portal again. He disengaged the drive and spun the shuttle around for a moment to try and spot the attacking ship. He thought he caught a glimpse of a shadow, but it was too far away to tell, so he span back again, engaging the drive again in time to avoid another rock as it hurtled towards them.

Time to portal? He snapped.

Ten minutes, go left a bit, responded Torres quickly, more than a little shaken as the Flyer lurched again as the Colonel desperately altered his course to avoid another meteorite.

Now this is flying! She heard him call, as he rolled the shuttle again. She thought him mad.

He caught a glimpse of the shadow ship to the left and hauled the speeding Flyer around, aiming quickly and crudely he fired a salvo of missiles. Without waiting to see if the results he span again, heading for the portal.

That will give them something to think about for a moment or two, he explained. I don't expect to hit them at this range, but stranger things have happened!

The probe should be coming through any moment now, she called urgently from her seat. About 2000 metres on our right!

The Colonel turned the Flyer around hard, reducing power a little as he did so, in time to see the shadow ship, shoot past the bows of the Flyer, less than 500 metres away. Automatically he twisted the Flyer and fired another salvo of missiles after the retreating vessel. This time he was rewarded as he saw one pass through the shadow. I think we have scored a hit! He called in delight. I suspect they are cowards so I don't think they will bother us for a minute or two, now where is that probe?

Torres called, hurrying forward and pointing.

Got it! Geronimo! The Colonel called, increasing power again, plunging the shuttle into the portal.

  
  


Aboard the Hithrar vessel, Kather and Shar took stock. It had taken them by surprise that the humanoid had carried a weapon that could destroy the rocks that they were hiding behind, or that he would try and chase them. It had always been their experience that people from the other galaxy carried energy weapons and the rocks on the various planetoids would simply absorb and store the energy, as indeed did their ships hull. This one seemed to be carrying a different weapon, one that ignored the physics of their realm.

They decided not to take him on directly again. Instead they elected to find and disable his ship, reasoning that it must be affected the same way as any other vessel in their Galaxy, without the protection of an energy absorbing hull.

They spotted the Flyer when it had stooped low to pick the Colonel up and had taken up pursuit. It was encouraging how quickly it seemed to lose power as their own weapons struck and its seeming inability to locate them and attempt to shoot back. As their third bolt had struck home they closed in for the kill, to be caught by surprise as it suddenly dived away, seemingly intent of burying itself into a small asteroid. It was this sudden action that prevented them getting in the final disabling shot.

Kather detected the vessel again a few minutes later as it shot out from behind two small meteorites. Only this time four glowing balls seemed to issue from the front of their enemies vessel, obviously aimed at them. They reacted with their own wild evasive manoeuvres, temporarily losing their quarry again.

Reasoning that the enemy would try to get to the portal that had brought them in to the Hitrar's realm they set course again, coming up close behind the Flyer without being detected. Yet again they were taken by surprise as the enemy suddenly seemed to stop and turn in front of them, forcing them to overshoot.

They detected the missiles that were fired but simply could not respond quickly enough to avoid them all. There was a loud crash as one passed through the rear of their ship. Their own power reserves immediately started to leech away, without the protective effects of the ships shell maintaining it.

We must return to our planetoid, Shar! Kather responding immediately to the damage, turning the vessel away. 

We need to repair the protective shell, his companion agreed. We will have to let them go, this time. Perhaps they won't be so fortunate next time they come.

  
  


Captain, I have the Flyer again! Ensign Kim shouted in relief as the small vessel shot out of the portal again.

The next comment was one of alarm. It's out of control and going too fast! It's going to hit something!

As one the Captain and Chakotay both leapt out of their seats in alarm.

On screen, she demanded.

They watched as the Flyer careered crazily around, seemingly missing rocks by metres or less. They could feel their own jaded nerves start them sweating for the safety of the occupants.

Get us to transporter range, quickly! The Captain demanded.

Aye Ma'am!

They saw the Flyer straighten up and seemingly turn to head directly for them, but without slowing down. It seemed more alarming than watching it twist and turn among the rocks.

Captain, I have the Colonel! Announced Kim from his station.

Put him on, she drawled in relief and resignation.

Janeway here! She called.

Good evening, Ma'am! Came the Colonel's calm voice.

Wish to report mission successful. Three injured, two seriously. The Doctor is non-functional until he can be powered up again aboard ship. I'm afraid Mr Paris got knocked about a bit when we were attacked. The threat has been dealt with, using minimal force. I didn't have to kill anybody! He sounded almost peeved.

Request Miss Nine, Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Paris are beamed to sickbay as soon as in range. I shall return control of the Flyer and surrender myself to Lieutenant Torres as soon as she wakes up. I don't think she likes my driving!

Please be advised that Lieutenants Paris and Torres performed their duties in accordance to my orders, against their wishes and are blameless in the incident. I will plead guilty to any charges you bring against me.

Which charges do you expect me to bring, Colonel? Where do you expect me to start? The Captain asked carefully.

I'll supply the rope, Ma'am. You can tie your own knots! Colonel out! The Colonel replied cryptically and severed the link.

Do as he requests, she ordered. Then tractor the Flyer into the hanger. Don't let him try and escape.

  
  


B'Elanna stirred to find the Colonel bathing her face with a damp cloth. Just because you don't like my driving, is not an excuse to bounce your nogin on the dash, he chided gently. Apart from the extra lump on your crown there is no damage.

She sat up straight. Where are we?

Heading for Voyager under full impulse, he replied. Before you take the drivers seat, I must give you this. He unshipped his long knife from his belt and handed it to her in it's scabbard, bowing before her. Uncertainly she took it, then watched as he also dropped his webbing. 

I formally return this vessel to Star Fleet and surrender myself before it's authority, he declared, bowing again.

If you will permit me, Ma'am. I shall take care of the wounded until Voyager is in range to take them.

She nodded uncertainly again and took the controls. Why have you surrendered? She asked quietly as she throttled the Flyer back. I thought your action was legal?

It was legal in 1990, he responded quietly. But even then I would have to face a board of enquiry over my actions and would be put under close arrest for them until the results were decided. This is the only way I can protect you and Lieutenant Paris from any negative effects of my actions.

Voyager to Delta Flyer, we are in transporter range. Prepare for tractor beam and beam out, a voice sounded.

B'Elanna affirmed automatically, shutting down propulsion.

They both turned to watch their injured comrades dissolve, then waited for their ship to be dragged into the Voyagers hanger.

  
  


A grim faced Captain and a security team were standing waiting for them as they opened the hatch. The Colonel stepped out, placing his hands on his head as he did so, then stepped aside to allow B'Elanna Torres to vacate herself, carrying the Colonel's equipment. He stood passively waiting for the next order.

B'Elanna moved quickly to confront the Captain. He did what was required, Captain! She urged, We would never have found them if he hadn't responded the way he did.

He still disobeyed my orders, Captain Janeway pointed out. But at the moment I have other problems. Until Tom Paris recovers and you fix the Doctor, I have no medical team.

She turned to face the Colonel squarely. You carried out surgery on Seven. Are you medically qualified, or is that something else to add to the list of charges against you? She demanded hotly.

Battlefield first aid only, Ma'am! He replied evenly.

Well until the Doctor is operational again and Tom Paris recovers, you had better spend some time in the sickbay and get that plumbing out of Seven! She demanded harshly.

B'Elanna how quickly can you get the Doctor working?

Perhaps two hours, B'Elanna replied hesitantly.

Get on with it then, she snapped, then turned and stumped away.

The Colonel was led upto the Sickbay. There he gently removed the tubing from Seven of Nine's side. She stirred as he did so. Her hand reached out and grabbed his. I am damaged! she said softly. You have repaired it?

he replied honestly. I've simply reduced the effects, the Doctor will sort it properly when he gets back. He kissed her on the brow and made to move away, but she gripped his hand.

I've got Tuvok to start on, he whispered.

What will happen to you? She asked quietly.

I'll be Courts Martialed, imprisoned, probably thrown off the ship. Nothing serious.

But you saved us! She protested weakly, his easy acceptance of his probable fate and the severity of the punishment seemed out of place in relationship to each other.

It doesn't work like that in life. You always have to pay the piper in the end. Forget about me. I'm really not worth the effort, he insisted.

She let go of his hand, letting hers drop loosely beside the couch, gently he picked it up and placed it across her stomach. He turned to Tuvok and started to examine his facial lacerations. Picking out a set of tweezers he started to remove the splints of plexi-glass from them, to be interrupted by the Doctor.

What are you upto? He demanded imperiously.

Removal of shrapnel, Doctor. I'm glad you're about, some of these bits are quite deep and small. I can get them out but it will leave scars, I'm sure you have much better ways. Also Miss Nine's lung needs proper surgery, that is well beyond me, plus a couple of broken bones. Mr Paris is recovering from a headache. May I return your room to you and go where I belong?

You had better, the Doctor agreed. You've undoubtedly done more than enough damage for today.

Very probably, The Colonel admitted. One thing though, Doctor. If I say run, it's because I mean it. Shambling around on a Sunday promenade is a sure way to get killed on a battlefield.

He turned to the two security guards. Gentlemen, if you follow me, we'll make our way to the Brig. I'm sure the Captain will be much happier if I'm safely tucked away.

He led them away.

  
  


For three days Captain Janeway and Chakotay interrogated the participants in the Colonel's actions as they recovered sufficiently to talk and poured over their written reports

They started with a cross examination of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris.

Did you agree to follow the Colonel into the portal? Started Janeway.

Paris agreed.

You knew it was dangerous and you might not have been able to get out again?

You also knew you may not find the missing shuttle.

Yes. But the probe would probably not have found them either, Paris pointed out. 

I've noticed we've not been able to raise the probe, Torres added. He deduced what had probably happened to the shuttle and gave me a fairly simple task to calculate where it was.

What was the damage to the shuttle? Chakotay asked.

From the sensors, the engine nacelles had been ripped off, they were operating on internal power only.

There was an atmosphere on the asteroid, they could have survived in that?

For about fifteen minutes, B'Elanna retorted.

Given what you know of the shuttle how long would their emergency power last?

Perhaps another two hours, the conditions there leeched power from everything. If we hadn't gone in and found them before the probe arrived, we would have lost them.

Is there anything else you wish to add to your answers or your written statements? The Captain asked.

The Colonel is trying to protect us from any action you might take, he even offered to return us to the ship so that he could carry out the mission with the least possible risk to ourselves. He believed that Seven and Tuvok were in immediate danger. He was right, even if the probe had found them immediately and managed to signal us we couldn't have got to them in time to save their lives, Torres stated. He now expects you to try him and put him off the ship for piracy and disobeying your orders. Largely because you don't accept the authority he used to commandeer the Flyer. If you do find him guilty of piracy the only criminal act would be yours, he was prepared to risk his own life to rescue our crew.

He spotted the portal without sensors, added Tom Paris. And he tracked their ship, he also worked out how to combat it and how to find our way back again. I haven't a clue how he out flew them.

That will do for now, The Captain announced stiffly, still smarting from B'Elanna's last statement. You are both dismissed.

They left the room. Hoping for more impartial replies they tried the Doctor.

Did you agree to enter the portal?

I wasn't asked, He replied truthfully.

Were Seven of Nine and Commander Tuvok in immediate danger from their wounds?

Tuvok was in great pain, with lacerations of the face, broken arm and rib, but not in immediate danger from anything other than suffocation. Seven of Nine had a collapsed lung to add to the broken rib, she was in grave danger.

The Colonel's treatment for the condition? 

It isn't in any Star Fleet first aid manuals, but it was effective. It saved her life. In the circumstances I couldn't have performed any better with the medical equipment we were carrying, he admitted.

How did you become disabled?

I thought there was no danger, so I walked to the shuttle, even though he told me to run. The aliens attacked us and I was too slow to respond to the Colonel's warnings.

He deliberately put you in danger?

I don't think so. If I had responded as he had instructed I don't think they would have hit me. If he had gone first, then he would not have been able to protect me properly or control his movements well enough to spot them before they opened fire.

The Captain sighed again. This interview wasn't going any different to the previous one. When can we talk to Seven and Tuvok?

Tuvok is up now, Seven should be available tomorrow, the Doctor replied evenly.

We'll speak to them both tomorrow, you're dismissed, Chakotay agreed for the Captain.

What am I going to do? The Captain appealed. I can't let him get away with what he did, but to hang him for it will look so churlish in the face of what he achieved. B'Elanna, Tom and the Doctor all seem to have a dose of hero worship for him!

They're probably right to. He took a calculated gamble and it paid off. Chakotay pointed out. We'll wait and see what Tuvok and Seven have to say about their captors, then we should talk to the Colonel.

I think we shall see the Colonel now, the Captain said impatiently. She got up and led him out of the Ready Room.

  
  


He was laying on the cot seemingly in sleep, but he stood and saluted as they approached.

Good morning, Ma'am. Is it time for my interrogation already? He asked easily. 

I wouldn't try and come in, I'm a dangerous criminal, Ma'am, he added as she reached for the door controls. I might escape and the guard is nervous enough to be scared.

She operated the door controls, ignoring the gentle mockery in his voice and they both entered, I don't think you'll try to escape, you've no where to run to! Besides you've already given your word you'll face any charges I bring, she said easily, signalling the guard to reactivate the force field.

Perhaps, but I seem to have got the hang of a shuttle, Ma'am! I could simply runaway and finish what I started.

I'm furious with you, but I can't decide if there is anything to try you for or if I should, said the Captain quietly, ignoring the threat. I expected better from you?

The Colonel nodded. One of the beauty's of the strict set of rules I work to is that they tend to be more flexible in their application, he said mildly. With a fixed punishment, the questions you end up asking are, did it work? And will anybody complain about it? Usually the former answers itself, if you get back then it probably did work. As questions they tend to be easier to answer than what degree of punishment is applicable.

So how would they work for us? She asked fascinated despite herself.

Nothing happened, replied the Colonel evenly.

But we were there lived and saw it, it's all on file! Chakotay pointed out.

So? Records can be amended, even on a computer. A shuttle was lost after being shot down in an area where sensors didn't work. A probe and a rescue party were sent to retrieve them. The rescue party did their job and effected an escape. Nothing complicated, no piracy, no heroics, no orders given or broken. Barely a footnote in history. Simply not worth a firing squad.

You sound as though you've done it? Falsified records to cover the actions of others? The Captain accused rounding on him, clasping her hands.

he replied honestly. It's been done for me as well. When I joined the ship there was a bullet lodged between my heart and lungs, the Doctor removed it, so it's in my bag. How I got it was never recorded in any records, because I was simply not supposed to be there to be shot at. But it prevented the death of sixty people in an Ethnic cleansing' firing squad. Putting me on trial for the action was too extreme for the benefits achieved.

Why did you break your word to follow my orders? The Captain asked quietly.

I did not break my word. I said I would not allow the crew to not allow the crew to fall into danger if the remedy was at my hand, he replied firmly. I reinterpreted your recommendation in light of better information that was more immediately evident from my position.

Would you have done it if Tuvok had been on his own? Chakotay asked.

The question is unfair, the Colonel protested. It presumes that my feelings for Miss Nine affect my performance and you should know be better than that by now!

Would you? Chakotay persisted.

Of course I would! He snapped. The only superfluous crew member aboard this vessel is me. The only function I can perform on this ship with any degree of competence, in normal circumstances, is paint the walls.

I'm beginning to wonder about that! The Captain interposed. You found an almost undetectable phenomenon without the aid of sensors, saved the lives of two of my crew members, by working out what happened to them, without the aid of computers and carried out an emergency operation. Were you medically qualified on Earth?

I was a drummer when I started in the army, a bandsman if you wish. All bandsmen are trained as battlefield medics. I was taught how to stabilise peoples conditions under fire and in such a way for real Saw Bones' to put them back together again later. No, I'm not medically qualified as such, just advanced first aid. I couldn't tell the difference between pregnancy and trapped wind, but I have performed open heart surgery and amputations in six inches of mud. 

The Doctor would have a fit and describe me as a barbarian if he knew about those, he added with a grin.

Why did you have B'Elanna disable the missile warheads?

I think you can find your own and better answers for that, the Colonel suggested. In a pocket of my pack, there are some samples of the rock on the asteroid along with some crystals. If you give those to Ensign Wildman and ask her to fire any form of electrical energy she cares to think of at them, she will be quite surprised by the results. They simply absorb power and become tougher. Hitting it with something solid makes them crumble. I suspected that their ship would be similar. The concept could be quite useful. If we can work out how it works.

The Captain asked sharply.

You really haven't got your thinking cap on today, Ma'am, he said reproachfully. It's a material that absorbs energy. Drape it around a Star Ship and it becomes almost invisible to sensors and impervious to phasors and torpedoes, get it to give it up the power it's absorbed again and you could have a power collector more efficient than anti-matter.

They both looked at him in amazement, the idea of collecting samples would simply not have occurred to them in the circumstances he had been facing.

He guessed at the reason for their surprise. I wasn't thinking of new defensive measurements at the time, Ma'am. He admitted reassuringly, It was simply greed, the crystals I picked up, I think they are diamonds. It would make me a lot richer if I were ever to return to Earth. After all I've got to pay the Mess Bill somehow!

If your going to poke in my pack. Could I ask for my bible and flute, please? He asked gently. It will make the time go a lot easier.

I'll consider it, the Captain assured him, turning to leave.

  
  


He's suggesting we simply forget the whole instance, she commented to Chakotay as they returned to the Ready Room. I can't do that. It would mean breaking in and modifying the ships logs and breaking Star Fleet Regulations.

In that case you will have to charge him for piracy. Then you will have to get him to leave the ship, Chakotay pointed out. It's the only sentence available if you found him guilty, and you would have to find him guilty to discourage anybody else doing it and prevent anybody accusing you of favouritism. The solution he offered would probably be the easiest and leave less to be explained.

I know, she moaned. I'll think about it tonight and come to a decision tomorrow after we've debriefed Seven and Tuvok.

  
  


Seven of Nine awoke from her enforced slumber during the night. Groggily she looked around. Finding that she was the only occupant in Sickbay, she got up and staggered to the replicator for a glass of water. Retrieving it she examined herself, her tattered suit was the same one she had been wearing on the shuttle, complete with the cuts and slices created by the Colonel and the Hithrar's, then activated the Doctor.

My status? She enquired as he materialised.

Your physical damage has been repaired, you should spend twelve hours in regeneration, the Doctor announced after a quick examination. You are also to report to the Captain for debriefing.

Status of Commander Tuvok and the Colonel? She demanded.

Tuvok is able to return to active duty. The Colonel is not injured, he replied glibly. He is in the Brig, waiting the Captain's decision on his refusal to follow orders, he added at Seven of Nine's accusing glare.

His actions led to the rescue of Commander Tuvok and myself, there should be no charge to answer, Seven disputed hotly.

I am inclined to agree with you, the Doctor assured her.

I will go and see him, she decided and staggered out the door, steadying herself with a hand on the wall.

You should regenerate first! The Doctor called after her.

She made her way to her quarters and found that somebody had placed his pack there. This she quickly rifled through and retrieved his flute and bible. Gripping these tightly she continued towards the Brig. She was stopped at the door by the guard on duty.

I wish to see the Colonel, she snapped sharply.

I'm sorry Miss, nobody is to see the Colonel, Captains orders. The guard informed her, nervously gripping his phasor, he was almost as scared of her as he was of him.

She caught a glimpse of the Colonel stretched out on the bunk in the cell and hissed in frustration. Then you will give him these, she demanded, handing the startled guard the items she had pulled from his pack. He will not harm you and the items are not dangerous, she assured him.

Very well, Miss. I'll pass them through with his breakfast, the guard informed her stoutly. Are you alright, Miss? Should I call the Doctor? He asked in alarm as she seemed to stagger slightly towards him.

I am not performing to nominal specifications. I will be better momentarily, she assured him grasping the wall as the world span before her.

Finally things settled down again and she set off back down the corridor.

  
  


The Captain was awoken from her slumbers by the persistent sounding of her door chime. Sleepily she climbed out of bed and opened it to find Seven of Nine.

Why do you wish to put the Colonel on trial, she demanded without preamble and marching in. 

Three in the morning is not the time to discuss the matter, responded the Captain sharply, snapping fully awake. You'll have an opportunity to put your views later today.

He performed as you have done in the similar circumstances, Seven persisted, not going to be deterred by time restraints and taking her classic stance,that inferred that there would be no compromise until she decided she had finished.

He isn't the Captain of the ship, he disobeyed my explicit orders. I can't have that, the Captain refuted.

Your double standard is illogical, Seven responded. You are defining that the Captain of a Star Ship, who is necessary to the ships continued safe operation, may put themselves at risk whilst somebody who has lived with risk and has limited importance to the ship cannot.

It's not a double standard. I have more experience in that sort of operation than he has.. The Captain started, to be interrupted by Seven of Nine.

He spotted danger without the aid of sophisticated sensors, could you? He deduced the location of the asteroid we had crashed on, the probable period over which we could survive before rescue, the fact that there was a hostile life form and how to combat it and carried out emergency surgery, all without the aid of the technology you require and base your experience upon, but using his experience. Could you have done the same? Who's experience would have proved more beneficial? Seven demanded.

He put the Doctor, Tom and B'Elanna at risk. They may not have returned and I could have lost them as well and they are all important to the ship! We didn't know what they were getting into! The Captain averred.

Is that not the core definition of exploration, to take risks with something you do not understand? Seven asked bluntly. The Colonel offered to return the crew to you, but you refused. They went with him willingly.

He was lucky, this time, he may not be next time, the Captain opined, but she could feel herself losing the debate in the face of the ex-Borgs stubborn assurity that she was in the wrong.

I do not believe in luck. I have noticed that you and the Colonel contrive to create your own luck', there is no other definable reason for the ships continued existence.

The Captain sighed, as was often the case Seven was voicing her simple black and white opinions in a way that would force her to consider and accept her own thoughts. 

Look I'm not discussing it any further tonight and you need your regeneration alcove, she said, not unkindly. Go and regenerate or sleep in the Colonel's bed, I don't care which. Then come and see me after lunch. I'll have talked with Tuvok by then and I'll let you know my decision at that time.

That is acceptable. I shall comply, Seven agreed, turning to go.

the Captain sighed. See you tomorrow. And put some less damaged clothing on, please! 

You can't go around in that, it's torn and showing more skin than it ought!

I shall comply, Seven responded stiffly.

The Captain returned to bed, her head full of thoughts that had been thrown into sharp relief by Seven's comments. Gradually she returned to an uneasy sleep.

  
  


The Captain woke late the following morning, finding Seven of Nine's comments still nagging at her. Dressing quickly she stumped to the bridge and called Chakotay to her Ready Room.

I had Seven pay me a call last night, she stated neutrally.

Oh! I thought she wasn't going to be around until after regeneration. What did she want? Chakotay asked in surprise.

The same thing as Tom and B'Elanna and I dare say Tuvok is going to describe to me as a logical reaction. But she pointed something else out as well, it made me stop and think.

What was that?

That he did what I have done in the same situation, charged in without knowing what I was upto. How can I charge a person for doing what I do and doing it better?

Because you're the Captain and he's not? Chakotay suggested mildly.

All the more reason I shouldn't do things the way I do! I have the lives of the crew to consider, he only had himself and two others! She protested sinking into a chair.

Chakotay sighed. He is right about the situation. It does come down to two options. Either you do as he suggested and modify the records, or you courts martial him against Star Fleet Regulations and put him off the ship.

The Captain nodded unhappily. Let's talk to Tuvok, perhaps he has something more helpful?

You have read the reports of the others? The Captain queried, leading the interrogation, as soon as Tuvok had settled, by Vulcan standards he was still a little pale and drawn.

He affirmed.

What is your interpretation of the Colonel's actions?

He performed as I would have expected him to do given his propensity for reactions and emotions.

Did he put the Flyer' in unnecessary danger?

If the Flyer' was to effect a rescue, it would have undergone a greater level of danger. We were unable to detect the vessel that attacked us, Tuvok replied impassively.

Could you and Seven have survived long enough for the probe to locate you and return with coordinates?

No. Life support was failing. The alien life forms were hostile and made no move to treat our injuries. I believe they survive as carrion, and were physically incapable of killing, so preferred to wait for their prey to die.

he volunteered. I have reviewed the regulations, both the Colonel's and ours. His do allow him to commandeer equipment in an emergency, and do not go into detail about how one is classified. Star Fleet regulations do not mention loosing control of shuttles, they do however say much about allies their legal definitions and authority. A Commanding Officer may give temporary control of a vessel to an ally in special circumstances, if the Commanding Officer believes the ally has better knowledge of the circumstances. If it is agreed that his status is that of an ally, then his action need not be illegal to Star Fleet protocols.

The Captain looked at him in surprise, he had just handed her a Get out of jail free card'. There's no catch? She asked suspiciously, it seemed to pat.

An ally is affirmed by the signing of numerous treaties and agreements between governments and/or senior parties. We have none of those as we have no contact with either senior party. However the circumstances may prove adequate, he offered. 

Captain Janeway turned to Chakotay. We'll go and see the Colonel again, she decreed.

  
  


They found the Colonel playing his flute when they entered the Brig. He laid it aside as they entered and stood politely as the guard removed the forcefield across the doorway.

Good afternoon, Ma'am, he announced.

I'm prepared to describe your actions as the selfless action of an ally in concern for the safety of my crew, she said without preamble. 

But there are conditions, she warned.

You spend an hour a day with the Doctor to learn how to use our medical techniques.

He nodded. Acceptable, Ma'am, he agreed.

And you don't disobey my orders again!

Please find me a planet with good air, Ma'am. And I would like my weapons when you leave me, please? He requested immediately, sitting down on the cot again. I cannot accept the last condition, it is unfair and unnecessary of you to make it. If the circumstances require immediate action I will act, with or without orders. I have clearly pledged I shall follow your requests as far as I am able. But I will also act for the safety of the ship and crew. If it is possible. Then answer for my actions afterwards as required. I have endeavoured to and will continue to endeavour to fulfil that pledge. But I will not unconditionally surrender the right to act independently if needed.

The Captain stood aghast at his flat refusal. I've offered you your freedom, she urged.

No, Ma'am. You've offered a stay of execution, he corrected her gently. If I accepted your conditions and a circumstance like the other days occurred, I will act in a similar fashion because it is my duty to do so. This cell will become my home, until you finally get fed up with me. I'd rather take my chances on a primitive planet.

May I be permitted to remind you, Ma'am, that my independent actions have been of service to you and your ship three times in the five months you have graciously allowed me aboard? He stated gently.

I'll continue to accept your pledge. Let him out, she hissed, turning for the door. 

Chakotay followed close on her heels.

You could have held out on him and given him the same conditions when we found a planet, Chakotay suggested, as soon as they were out of earshot. He might accept them then!

No he wouldn't, you saw how quickly he rejected my conditions. He didn't even consider them because he knew what would happen! The Captain countered firmly. He is prepared to die for the right to carry out his duty even if duty means he will die! Playing chicken is not a game anybody is going to win against him. 

Besides he is proving to be more useful than we thought possible. She flashed a sudden smile then disappeared as quickly as it came, as she realised she had just given in to the tall soldier without a fight.

  
  


The Colonel released from his cell went in search of Seven of Nine. He found her in the Cargo Bay regenerating, dragging up a cargo container he sat down and waited.

Seven of Nine did not notice the Colonel when she awoke from her regenerative slumber. She stepped down from the alcove and automatically activated her computer console.

Seven of Nine, daily log.

My damage has been fully regenerated. I have reviewed my discussion with the Captain earlier this morning. I now believe that my arguments were based upon my personal feelings for the Colonel and not on logic as I originally thought. It is another sign that my interest in the Colonel is affecting my efficiency aboard the ship. I shall see the Captain and agree to her suggestion to have the Colonel permanently reassigned so that I may regain the efficiency I have lost.

You know, I think that would be an awful shame, the Colonel said quietly from his seat. Nor do I think it will be as easy as that. But if you wish I shall see the Captain and give her an excuse to throw me overboard?

She span around sharply. That will be unnecessary! How long have you been here? When were you released? she claimed perfunctorily.

It would. It requires both of us not to wish for each others company. The only way I could do that safely is not to have the opportunity to see you again and the only practical way I could ensure you had your own quarters, he said sadly, standing up and moving towards her.

I was released just over four hours ago and I've been sat here since then, he answered all her questions dutifully.

She demanded. It is inefficient.

At the moment I have nothing better to do, other than watch over my Princess and commanding officer and make sure no further harm comes to her, he admitted shyly.

You disobeyed the Captains orders, why?

He sighed. I did what was necessary to protect the crew of the Voyager. I will undoubtedly keep doing it until the Captain gets fed up with me and tells me to get off. Or she finally realises that is who I am and lets it go to the logical conclusion.

You wish to die? She demanded in astonishment.

Not especially, there are things I'm starting to get to grips with here, he claimed. Let's just say I'm not afraid of it and it would mean I wouldn't have to protect myself anymore.

She moved towards him, placing her arm around him as he often did when she needed comfort, hoping to bring comfort to him. It seemed to work as his face cracked into a smile.

Hark at me, the wizened old caveman, cackling on! He exclaimed. There was a much better reason to meet you.

That is? She asked carefully.

I was going to suggest a romantic moonlit dinner on the holodeck, perhaps with fireworks or a play. But as you appear to not require my company, I shall withdraw with good grace, then you won't face the embarrassment of refusing. Good Night, Miss Nine, He took and kissed her hand gently, then turned for the door.

Your offer is satisfactory, she stopped him. My injuries still cause discomfort, so I may still require taking care of', you will comply.

He turned back to her with a broad smile. Permission to hold and kiss you, Ma'am? He teased.

she agreed hopefully.

She was rewarded as he gently wrapped his arms around her and held her in a long and gentle kiss. She responded likewise, allowing her left hand to slide up his back and hold his head trying to make the kiss last longer.

  
  


Their romantic dinner was interrupted by the Captain as they entered the dessert.

I thought I might find you here, she smiled. May I interrupt you for a moment? 

The Colonel agreed, pulling a spare chair from an adjoining table for her to sit upon.

Wine, Ma'am? He asked, pouring a glass out for her.

I've come to apologise for my actions, she started.

What actions, Ma'am? He seemed genuinely puzzled by the statement.

For putting you in the Brig for disobeying my orders! She exclaimed.

I recall no spell in the Brig, Ma'am. But if you sent me there I'm sure I deserved it, he opined brightly, I recall having the privilege of joining a shuttle mission to rescue a downed shuttle and being permitted a small role in the proceedings, is that the event you mean?

She began in exasperation, then gave up. Well you had better thank Seven that you don't remember the event, for reminding me of what I am like and do with much less credibility, she finished.

He smiled at her. I do, Ma'am. Whole heartedly every time I see her, he agreed.

I'll not take anymore of your time. Good Night and thank you, both of you, she said getting up.

I think I'm getting the hang of this exploring lark, Ma'am, the Colonel commented mildly, as she was about to walk away.

She asked in surprise, turning back.

Yes, Ma'am. It's just like being a soldier. One places oneself in unknown circumstances, then have to work out how to get out again, using nothing but your wits, he said gently. Perhaps if I'm lucky I might even become one?

You might, she agreed with a smile and left them.

Okay, Miss Nine. What is your pleasure? He asked.

I wish to be comforted, she decided, moving chairs and sitting on his lap so that she could hold him.

As you wish, he whispered, holding her gently.

  
  


  
  


  
  


revision 1

  



	8. 1-08 Stranded

# 1-08 Stranded

_The Colonel leads a Dilithium mining expedition and finds himself stranded on an un-named planet with unfriendly creatures. Voyager investigates a nebula and runs into it's own difficulties._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel is my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail [story@rgower.plus.com][1]_

_Web page: [www.thestoryboard.co.uk][2] _

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway._

_This story is rated PG on the UK sensors ratings_

_©R Gower 2000_

  


"Review personal log 26357.34," Seven commanded of the console. 

She had come to the cargo bay to regenerate her implants. But now the necessary chore was done, she had allowed herself some time to review her personal logs on a problem that had and still was causing her some concern.

"I am still unable to determine the reason for my desire to be in the presence of the Colonel. Lieutenant Torres, has suggested it is 'love', but has failed to provide an acceptable definition, although she also claims to be in 'love'. My personal observations of Lieutenants Torres and Paris relationship suggest that love cannot be my affliction. I have had no desire to strike at the Colonel. I am however informed that Klingon mating rituals are often physical. Lieutenant Paris suggested a cold shower. As a cure, this did not work."

Her own voice was played back to her. This recording was from two months after the Colonel had joined the ship.

"Review personal log 26357.36," she commanded again.

"I have reviewed the medical texts on the subject 'love' but I am still unable to establish a pure definition in relation to the Colonel and my own feelings. The romantic fiction the Doctor recommended are unreliable. However they describe undesirable symptoms of faintness, accelerated heart rate, elevated temperatures, the illogical desire to hold somebody when in their presence. I believe I have been subjected to all of these. They provide no cure."

She still had no answer to the questions she had posed herself ten months ago, and the feelings and 'symptoms' were as strong as ever. It irritated her, she did not like unanswered questions. It showed inefficiency, she scowled at the console she was standing over.

"I don't see you in here very often anymore, Seven. Is there something wrong?" The Captains voice shook her out of her revere.

"I was reviewing my logs, Captain," she answered, slightly embarrassed. "I have found there are a number of questions I have omitted to find answers to."

"What are they, perhaps I can help?" the Captain suggested with a smile, coming closer.

"What is the emotion 'love'? how do people fall in and out of it?" Seven replied.

The Captain whistled. "The tough ones first, eh!"

"If you don't know what love is by now, then you've had us all foxed!" She continued, in amusement.

Seven of Nine looked at her curiously, trying to decide if the Captain was teasing her. Deciding that the Captains grin did not constitute 'teasing' she tried to explain. "The Borg believe that love is a virus, that the physical symptoms are undesirable. Yet I wish to remain in the Colonels presence and continue to experience them!"

"Yes. When your really in love they are and you do. They will subside as you adapt to the condition," the Captain smiled at her. 

"But why am I in love?" Seven asked.

The Captain sagged onto a cargo container her face a picture of open mouthed incredulity. "Do you really want an answer? Most of us would be happy just to be in love, and not have to worry about why!"

"I believe so. It may prevent me falling out of love again, like I did when the Doctor tried to split us apart." Seven answered uncertainly.

"You didn't know then and the Doctor failed totally, despite all the technological toys and intimate knowledge he has available. I'd say it would take an event of cataclysmic proportions to split you two apart!" the Captain laughed.

She sighed wistfully, becoming more serious. "I was in love once. But the man I thought I loved made the mistake you are making. He tried to analyse why! We broke up within a week. You have been very fortunate. You seem to have found your perfect partner without having to look and making the mistakes the rest of us do. Take my advice, leave the analysing until after it's over, and hope you never need to!" 

"Wat if the situation were to reoccur!" Seven pleaded.

"Then you will have to cope with it as best you can, like the rest of us," replied the Captain. "That is what being human is all about. Learning to cope with the things that change."

"Why does the Colonel still love me? I have proved unreliable," Seven of Nine, tried a new tack.

"He loves you because you are who you are. You love him because he is who he is. Just leave it at that," the Captain advised quickly. "Love is full of traps, if you look for them, you will still fall into one that you didn't see!" 

"You sounded like the Colonel," Seven of Nine accused her.

"I suppose I did." The Captain agreed in surprise. "Every time I talk with him, I learn things from a different perspective, or relearn things I had dismissed as unimportant and find they are important after all. I really believe he has had a bigger effect on this ship than we have had on him!" She confessed.

"When I was replacing the Colonel's belongings in our quarters, I found his log," confessed Seven of Nine. "I found a poem in it on the subject of love. I read it."

"Go on!" The Captain was intrigued. The Colonel appeared to be skilled in many unusual things, but original verse seemed unlikely.

Seven closed her eyes, remembering. "It read," she announced.

"How great is my love for thee?

As great as the mountains?

Greater,

As great as the oceans of the world?

Greater,

As great as the sun?

Greater,

As great as the galaxy?

My love for thee is greater than these.

  


How long will I love thee?

As long as the giant elephant?

Longer,

As long as the mighty redwoods live?

Longer,

As long as there is air to breathe?

Longer,

As long as the stars shine?

My love for thee will last longer than these."

"It's not Shakespear, but it gets its point across. What of it?" The captain asked.

"Can he do that?" Seven asked in a small voice.

Janeway laughed. "On current performance, I'd say the Colonel could do anything he wanted. If somebody proved he couldn't, I wouldn't believe them. You've got something special, accept it."

"Come on, we'd better get back to work," she claimed getting up.

"When will Seven learn to accept what she has is better than anything she or anybody could wish for," she wondered as she continued her rounds.

  


The Colonel was in deep conversation with the youngest crew member on the ship, Naomi Wildman. At the age of nine, she was the most intelligent child the Colonel had ever met, yet despite this she still had a child's sense of enjoyment. To her that meant talking to the Colonel and teasing him. She liked getting him to tell her stories and teaching her songs, even without the holodeck he seemed to bring them alive in her mind. For his part he enjoyed doing it, he felt that gave him the opportunity to teach her there was more to life than the computers and cold facts that surrounded her. Today she was having him retell her the story of Cinderella. 

Finally, when he had finished, she asked in a child's direct way, "Are you Seven of Nine's Prince Charming?"

"I really don't know. I'd like to be!" He admitted, "I think anybody you decide to be in love with will look like Prince Charming."

"Mummy thinks you are, and I do to!" She declared firmly. "She's much nicer than she used to be!"

"Perhaps that's because people are nicer to her!" The Colonel suggested evenly. 

"When I grow up, you'll be my Prince Charming! Gallant and brave and so much fun to be with!" She declared earnestly.

"I'll have to tell Miss Nine, she has a rival, for when she turns me out," laughed the Colonel.

He sprang up and bowed deeply to her, "Your eternal and grateful servant Ma'am," he pronounced. 

"Now it's nearly lunch time, and your mum will be coming off her shift and I have a luncheon appointment with Cinderella. Let's go down to the mess and meet them," he took her hand. 

"Do you remember the little marching song we learnt yesterday? Lets see if you can sing it as far as the mess," he challenged her.

She laughed and sang, as they marched.

  


Lieutenant Caerey was carrying out maintenance upon a shuttle craft, balancing the shuttles warp engines. It was a delicate but routine activity that he should have been able to carry out with his eyes shut, as he had many times before. Today he found he was unable to concentrate upon the operation and as hard as he might he could not get the drives to correctly align their thrust patterns. His thoughts kept being drawn away to his past on Earth. Like most of Voyagers crew, he was a young man, full of promise when he had been unceremoniously dumped in the Delta Quadrant. Unlike most of the crew, he had been married less than six months when he had signed aboard, his young wife had been pregnant and he kept thinking of the child he had never seen. Was it a boy or girl, he wondered, how was it doing in it's studies. Somehow it seemed more important to him than the delicate operation that he was trying to complete. Eventually he decided he had achieved an acceptable result and slammed the covers shut and left the shuttle bay, head down, towards the mess and his quarters, preoccupied by his thoughts. So preoccupied was he that he walked blindly into Seven of Nine, who was stretching to inspect a power conduit, knocking her to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Seven!" He exclaimed, "I wasn't looking where I was going. Were you hurt?" He added absently. He made no attempt to help her up, but stood gazing blankly at her.

She got to her feet rubbing her elbow, it had taken most of the impact. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I am not seriously damaged," she replied coolly. 

"Good!" He replied and continued on his way.

Seven rubbed her elbow again, considering whether to go and see the doctor to have the sting removed from the bruise she could feel forming. In the end she decided not to, it would make her late for lunch with the Colonel. She turned and followed Caerey towards the Mess.

  


Naomi ran up to her mother as soon as she saw her. "Mommy! The Colonel is going to be my Prince Charming and is going to be my 'eternal servant', when Seven of Nine decides she doesn't want him anymore!"

"I think you could have a long wait," her mother replied, laughing.

The Colonel visibly cringed and blushed deeply, at the laughter in the room.

"Cinderella again?" Samantha Wildeman asked sympathetically.

He grimaced and nodded. 

"I think she will have to take her turn behind her mother!" She grinned at him mischievously.

"Seven is not here yet, Colonel," interrupted Neelix nervously, scurrying up and rescuing him from having to reply.

The Colonel glanced at his wrist watch before turning to him. "As I'm a couple of minutes early, I'm not in the slightest surprised." 

"In fact here she is, exactly on time, as usual!" He announced, as she entered the room. 

"It's one of her many good points," he confided. "Now what's on your mind?"

"I was wondering, if you would put on a concert or something?" Neelix asked deferentially. "To cheer everybody up a little. If you and Seven don't mind and aren't too busy. Everybody keeps saying how they liked your songs at the last dinner," he added quickly.

"We'll consider it," the Colonel promised, "Now what's on the menu?"

He and Seven took their plates to their preferred table in the corner of the room. "What's up?" He asked when they sat down.

"I was knocked to the floor by Lieutenant Caerey. He was not looking where he was going," she said.

The Colonel looked over to the table where Caerey was toying with his food. "Perhaps I ought to go and teach him some manners," he growled.

"There is no need," she said quickly, thinking of what the Colonels idea of teaching manners might involve. "He apologised and I was not damaged. You are due on Holodeck 2 for flight training in 30 minutes," she continued, reminding him of his lessons and rubbing her arm again.

He growled his assent. 

"In that case we had better get the undamaged arm you keep rubbing fixed," he suggested.

"I do not wish to see the doctor alone," she protested. She still did not entirely trust the doctor, if she was on her own.

"If it's only a bruise, then perhaps I can do something about it," the Colonel suggested gently.

"You are not medically qualified," she retorted.

"True," he admitted. "But I do know how to treat sprains and bruises. Come on I'll escort you to your quarters, then show you. Besides as you're the instructor today, being a little late won't matter will it!"

He took her gently by her good arm and led her out.

  


"We need a new supply of Dilithium. Seven's scans have identified several planets that we can try," announced B'Elanna at the staff meeting. "The next leg of the journey looks like a long one and I don't want to run out half way."

The Captain nodded. "There is also what looks like an unusual dark nebula forming that we should observe while we've the chance. We'll do both!"

"How's the Colonel doing with his piloting skills instructions?" Thw Captain turned to Tom Paris.

"I'd say he was doing pretty well now he's not trying to fly it like an aeroplane," Paris announced. "He's not a natural pilot, but he'll be good enough!"

"Good!" Announced the Captain. "Seven, I want to see him in my Ready Room after the meeting."

Seven of None nodded her agreement.

  


Seven of Nine brought the Colonel up to see the Captain as instructed. 'After a year with the ship he still refuses to step on the bridge without an instruction to do so, those damn regulations of his,' the Captain thought.

He slammed to attention and saluted, as was his practice.

"Stand easy, Colonel!" She smiled. 'Did he ever stop being a soldier,' she wondered, 'is he like that with Seven when they're off duty? '

"Ma'am!" He replied.

"I want you to lead a party to a planet and dig up some Dilithium," she announced. 

"The planet Seven has found appears to be the most peaceful place in the Quadrant, so it will kill a number of problems at once," she continued.

"Ma'am?" He questioned

"It will give you an opportunity for hands on piloting, gives the landing party sufficient protection, you can't go to war with anyone, gives you the opportunity to unwind a little in good company and I can spend some time 'star gazing'."

"Ma'am," he responded formally. "Who will be my crew?" 

"I was thinking Ensign Wildman, Seven of Nine, Naomi Wildman and Lieutenant Vorik."

"Very good, Ma'am. But may I suggest Lieutenant Caerey, in place of Lieutenant Vorik. And why crewman Naomi Wildman?"

"I think Naomi needs a spell off the ship as well. Why do you want Caerey?" She asked.

"Looking at him, I would say he is under strain at the moment, Ma'am. The records show he's only been off the ship once in the last five years. So he is due some time off," the Colonel stated levelly.

"Vorik hasn't been off the ship that often," she pointed out.

"Vorik is a Vulcan and doesn't notice, Ma'am. Nor did he leave a young pregnant wife for a four week shake down cruise, that's now lasted over five years. I'd say Caerey has a right to be a little depressed," he pointed out. "I'll take both if you like, Ma'am?" He suggested.

"That won't be necessary. I've learnt that trying to negotiate with you will leave me without the shirt on my back. I'd like to pitch you against a Ferengi trader someday," she laughed.

"Very good, Ma'am," he announced impassively. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow will be soon enough, so get your equipment together."

  


"Well ladies and gentleman, thank you for your confidence in flying Learner Air," he announced to his crew the next morning in the shuttle bay. Somebody had painted a large red 'L' on the rear of the type 2 shuttle that was to be their transport, they were looking at it warily. "As you can see Lieutenants Paris and Torres have some doubts about my abilities, and have attached suitable warnings," he said, pointing at the 'L', "The flight will undoubtedly be bumpy, but I promise we will walk away from the crash. If only because I've always done so in the past," he admitted.

"I don't think you'll crash!" claimed Naomi loyally. She was excited, she had never been on a proper away mission.

"Bless you child! He pronounced. Shall we board?"

The shuttle lurched out of the shuttle bay and set course for their target planet, as the Colonel fought with the controls and the impulse to over correct.

"Well the paints intact," announced Ensign Wildman, wishing her stomach was.

"Back in the ides of time when I learnt to fly aeroplanes. My instructor was happy to inform me that takeoffs were easy, it's the landing at the other end that bites," the Colonel happily informed her, as he settled on course.

  


On the Bridge Captain Janeway waited impatiently for the shuttle to clear the ship. She watched it stagger away. "Well it could have been worse," she opined. 

"Aye, he could of crashed in the shuttle bay," suggested Tom Paris, grinning at her.

"Set course for the dark nebula, Tom, Warp 2," Janeway commanded sternly, suppressing her own grin of agreement.

"Aye, Ma'am," he replied turning back to his console. "Estimated time of arrival six hours."

"Good, hail me when we are in position," she demanded, turning for her Ready Room.

Voyager turned away onto it's own course and shot off.

Five hours later the Captain was disturbed by a lurch from the ship and an urgent call from Tuvok. "Captain to the Bridge, Immediate."

"Report?" She demanded as she shot out of the Ready Room.

"We have been caught in an energy stream. Type unknown, Source unknown. Warp Drive and Impulse Engines have failed," Tuvok informed her.

"Thrusters, back us out!" She commanded.

"No effect, Captain," announced Paris his voice rising in alarm. "The stream has caught us, we can only go where it goes."

Janeway stood and stared at the screen in amazement. "Call the shuttle back!" she demanded. "Otherwise they may be stranded by the time we get out of this." 

  


On the shuttle the Colonel was totalling up his flight adjustments, as they approached the planet. He turned to Seven of Nine. "Should I have needed to make this many course adjustments?" he asked, passing her the PADD.

She inspected them, then examined her instruments. "The warp drive is out of line. It is not a serious error, but regular course corrections will need to be made. You may programme them into the flight controls," she informed him, turning to demonstrate.

The shuttle suddenly lurched into a spin. "Stabilisers have failed," the Colonel announced controlling the panic he felt. "Attempting to compensate." 

Finally he managed to right the craft, but found that changing course significantly was impossible, the shuttles helm was hard over to keep the small ship on an even keel. "This is not good. Anybody got some ideas, Mr Caerey?"

"We need to get back to Voyager," suggested Caerey, suddenly realising this was the shuttle he had adjusted the previous day.

"That may be a little difficult. I'm maintaining our original heading just. But everything's hard over to do it. I don't want to try and go after Voyager," he advised. "I think a call for help would be acceptable about now, Miss Nine."

They were interrupted by Tuvoks own message. "Voyager to Away Team."

"Go ahead Commander," Seven answered for the Colonel, as he continued to battle with the controls.

"We have lost propulsion and are being dragged in an energy stream. Adjust heading for immediate return to Voyager," Tuvok advised.

"That will not be possible," she replied evenly, "We are experiencing difficulties of our own. Lateral stabilisers have failed. We are experiencing difficulties holding course."

"Hold on chaps, we are going in!" The Colonel announced, as the shuttle started to bounce on the atmosphere.

"Miss Nine, can you control the thrust? I daren't let go of the directional controls or I'll lose it totally," he announced, calmly amidst the buffeting. "I want to lose speed, a lot of speed. Damn I wish these things had real flight controls!" 

"I have thrusters," Seven announced. "You need to increase attitude to 30º to safely navigate the stratosphere."

Carefully the Colonel complied. Three times the shuttle lurched trying to enter a spin again, each time he caught it, levelling the shuttle out again. 

"Everybody still with us?" he called, as the buffeting subsided as they entered the lower atmosphere.

Reluctantly everybody agreed. 

"Good! Because at this attitude and speed we will bury ourselves a good 200 feet below the surface and there isn't enough control to level out." 

He glanced at Seven of Nine. She was sitting stiffly poised over her control panel, still controlling the thrust. To her credit only her tenseness betrayed the nerves she must be feeling, he decided. He was going to make her a lot more nervous. "How aerobatic are these things?" He asked quietly.

"Type 2 shuttles are fully manoeuvrable!" She replied, carefully looking back at him. "Why do you ask?"

"Never mind, if we survive I'll tell you. In the mean time, get everybody strapped in tight, then do exactly as I request on the power."

She looked around, everybody was holding their seats. She could sense their fear, it more than matched her own. That at least was a comfort. "Restraints activated," she announced, pressing buttons on the console.

The Colonel felt the force field pulling him into his seat. "Hold tight!" he called needlessly, letting the ship dive forward. 

"Cut power!" He yelled as the shuttle approached a 90º dive. He continued to fight the controls as the shuttle continued its outside loop. Gradually it levelled out, now upside down. "Now, Power, More Power!" He yelled, allowing the shuttle to roll back to it's normal attitude.

"Okay!" He announced, allowing himself to calm down, "We have a nominal landing attitude. You may reduce power again, Miss Nine. Can anybody please tell me where we are?"

Seven of Nine, recovering quickly, reduced power to the shuttles engines and studied the instruments. She had watched in alarm as the Colonel had pushed the shuttle into a loop, and had merely reacted to his shouted commands, silently complying as they were given. She now took a deep breath to steady her own nerves before replingl "We are approximately 80 kilometres from and heading towards our original landing site. Altitude 200 Metres, velocity 700 KPH."

"What was the manoeuvre you carried out, it is not an approved Star Fleet action?" She demanded.

"I dare say it isn't," he said more brightly than he felt. "The Air Force had a name for it, and it was strictly frowned on then as well. Too many hot shots drove into the ground trying to perform it. Now can you bleed enough speed for us to land near our initial site?"

She rapidly responded, but the shuttle was still doing over 150 KPH when the Colonel 'pancaked' it to the ground. "Hold on," He yelled, unnecessarily as it skipped and bounced across the earth. It came to a halt 400 metres after touch down, it's nose crunched on a rock. Silence reigned inside for a few minutes as the occupants struggled to regain their wits. 

Finally the Colonel struggled from his seat, numbly. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. Thank you for flying Army Air. I hope you enjoyed your flight and will consider travelling with us again!" He opened the door, stepped out and collapsed in a retching heap.

Samantha Wildman was the next to recover, desperately she grabbed her daughter and staggered after the Colonel.

"How is she?" The Colonel croaked, crawling over towards her.

"She's unconscious, but I don't think there's anything else," Wildman announced. "Should I congratulate you on a good crash, or kill you for stranding us here?" She added viciously.

"Neither would be appropriate," answered Seven of Nine, stepping off the shuttle as if 100 mile per hour landings in a shuttle were a normal landing pattern for a shuttle. "The shuttle underwent a series of catastrophic failures. They must be analysed before blame is proportioned."

The little display of bravado impressed the Colonel. He did not believe for a moment it was true, he had seen her look of horror as he had performed the outside loop. It buoyed up his own confidence. 

Caerey was the last off. He stumbled towards the Colonel. "Colonel, I think the accident may have been my fault," he whispered. "I carried out the warp drive balancing that caused the instability!"

The Colonel turned to him, recovering his normal attitude. "At the moment I don't give a damn," he replied. "For the time being I'm happy that we are still alive and generally unhurt. What I do with you in the future," he paused, "depends upon how quickly you get that shuttle working again!"

"You're mad!" Caerey exclaimed hotly. "It's smashed. It'd take months in the shuttle bay to fix!"

The Colonel smiled at him. Caerey didn't like the smile, there was no humour in it. "Yes, I'm mad. I'm also in command, so forget Star Fleet rules and regulations. You have until tomorrow noon to come back and tell me how you are going to make the shuttle air-worthy. You are an engineer, live up to it and get inventive."

Seven approached him cautiously. "He is unlikely to succeed, the ship is extensively damaged," she pointed out.

"Maybe. But we will have wait and find out. In the mean time try and get a comm's link to Voyager working. I'll get Ensign Wildman started on the exploration work, and I'll start setting camp."

She looked at him, he was showing another facet of his nature, a survivalist and callous one. One that she wasn't sure she liked.

  


On the bridge of Voyager, they looked at each other silently, stunned at the report they had received from Seven of Nine. They had overheard the Colonel calling, "Hold on chaps, we are going in!". Since they had heard nothing, imagination was gripping them.

Finally Tuvok broke the silence. "The shuttle has entered the planets atmosphere, I am unable to regain communications! Captain."

She snapped her attention back to the here and now. "Conference call in two hours. I want idea's and they had better be good ones!" She announced heavily. She turned for her ready room, feeling tears sting her eyes.

Chakotay followed her, sensing her despair.

"They're not dead yet, Kathryn," he tried to assure her.

"Even an expert pilot couldn't get out of what they are going through and the Colonel is not an expert! They were on a collision course with a planet, A planet I sent them too so that I could watch stars, what else should I believe?"

"You could believe in 'Colonel the survivor'," Chakotay suggested gently holding out a crumb of comfort. "From everything we know of him, the more highly stacked the odds against him, the better he survives. Besides, we have our own problems that need fixing before we can go and find them."

She turned towards them, the tears bright in her eyes. "The Colonel once declared that exploring stars was a game to me, I did it for the kicks," she sniffed. "Well this is a game I'm not enjoying anymore, it's hurting." She buried her head in Chakotay's shoulder, in a rare display of emotion.

"The Colonel would also say, no pain no gain," he said placing an arm around her, pulling her close.

"But who's pain?" She asked, realising her position, straightening up and forcing herself to recover. "Get Tuvok to try and enhance long range scans and scan the planet, see if we can find the wreckage!"

"Yes, Captain," Chakotay replied, a trace of a smile playing on his lips. It was rare that his Captain needed such close comforting.

"They will survive, because they have the Colonel, Kathryn. We will because we have you! Believe in it, I do." He left.

  


"We have several problems," Janeway announced to her staff meeting. She ticked them off for clarity. "One, we are stuck in this energy stream and can't get out. Two, we have no power for warp engines or impulse drive. Three, we have crew members stranded on a primitive planet and they need our help. Now how do we handle it?"

They sat and watched each other in silence. Finally Torres spoke up, dreading what she had to say, "I can't do anything with the engines, until we get out of the energy ribbon, it absorbs everything as soon as we create it!"

"Thrusters aren't man enough to make headway," pointed out Paris. "We may have to live with the stream until it throws us out!"

"How long can the Away Team live on the Planet?" asked Kim.

"They took seven days rations and they have a portable replicator," replied Tuvok. "But we do not know if they survived the crash, how badly injured they may be or the limit of the damage."

"Nor have you counted upon the Colonels abilities to survive in a wild area, it's his natural environment," Chakotay pointed out quickly.

"I'll accept no suggestions that they didn't survive, until it can be proven," Janeway declared stubbornly. "Tuvok, have you calibrated the sensors to examine the planet."

"Yes, Captain. There is no positive sign of a crash site. But I cannot obtain the resolution required to get an accurate scan."

"Good, then we will assume they are alive."

They were interrupted by an excited Ensign Carver bursting through the door. 

"Ensign, you are not permitted to enter the conference room during a senior staff meeting," Tuvok scolded sternly.

"I, I'm sorry Sir, but we have picked up a communication from the planet. I believe it's Seven of Nine. We're trying to enhance it, but it's very garbled. We would like help to try and decode it!"

"Harry, B'Elanna go to it!" Janeway could hardly contain her relief.

They ran onto the bridge. Gallantly Kim and Torres struggled with the message they were receiving, finally crying in triumph as Seven of Nine's voiced echoed onto the Bridge.

"Away Team to Voyager, respond!"

"We're still trying to respond, Captain!" Kim warned her. "I'm trying a simple ping response!"

"Got her!" He exclaimed, in relief. "It's not the best signal, but we can make contact for the time being, Captain."

"Janeway here. Report!" The Captain said slowly and clearly.

Seven's relieved voice came back. "The shuttle is severely damaged. Lieutenant Caerey is attempting to discover the probability of repair. Ensign Wildman is scanning for Dilithium. The Colonel is setting camp. We are undamaged."

"How did you survive?" Asked the Captain incredulously.

"I do not know," Sevens voice floated back. "The Colonel performed an un-approved aerobatics manoeuvre to bring the shuttle down intact. He is very resourceful." Even from the crackling response she sounded impressed.

The voice changed to the Colonel. "I'm sorry Ma'am, for not obeying your last instructions, but we've had a few problems of our own! We're just sorting them out. I believe you have a few of your own?"

"How did you survive the crash?" The Captain asked again.

"Captain, we didn't crash! The definition of a good landing is any landing that you walk away from, remember?" The Colonel protested.

She forced away the smile of relief, the Colonel was being the Colonel. If he was like that then things there were not insurmountable. "Okay, but how are you going to get off again?"

"It depends how inventive Lieutenant Caerey is," he responded. "I'm afraid I bent something when we landed, so we might need help. In the mean time we'll mine the required Dilithium."

"We can't get back for a while," the Captain warned. Briefly she went over the Voyagers predicament.

The Colonel was silent for a moment. "Very well, I'll keep the kettle on for your arrival." 

He was silent for a moment, then came back again. "Forgive me for being a Caveman, Ma'am. But I once went white water rafting. To get out of the current you paddled like fury aiming for an outside bend."

"So?" The Captain asked curiously.

"The thing is. You paddle with the fastest current to get out, not across it!" His voice came back. The link was lost.

I am unable to regain contact, Captain, Tuvok announced calmly.

Tom Paris slammed the console in front of him. "Of course!" he exclaimed.

The Captain looked at him curiously. "Tom?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Captain. But I've been using the thrusters to try to counter the stream. What the Colonel suggested was to use the stream to push us into calmer waters," he explained breathlessly.

The light of dawn shone on the Captain. "Do it! Tuvok map the stream pass it on to Tom." she demanded. "And Tom find us a safe bank, on the right shore, I want them back!" she added.

"Captain!" they replied, in unison.

  


Dark was gathering on the Planet and the Colonel called his team together around a lamp he had put on the ground.

"This is the situation," he started when they had settled. Briefly he described the situation Voyager was in as had been described to him. 

"To sum up, we are on this planet for at least another couple of weeks, possibly longer, unless Mr Caerey can pull some thing together out of the wreckage. My intention is to work for a long term stay but hope that it is shorter."

"What about food?" Asked Ensign Wildman. "The replicator can't provide everything for that long."

"I'm not worried about food," he answered happily. "Don't forget, although I know next to bugger all about space and Voyager, I used to live in places like this. A lot of them were a whole lot less friendly. There is more food here than you can shake a stick at. Naomi and I'll find some of it tomorrow. In the mean time: Lieutenant Caerey will continue to create a working shuttle. You Ensign, will continue to grub out Dilithium. Miss Nine, I need you to plan out and produce what we need from the replicator and try and regain contact with Voyager. When Mr Caerey gets the shuttle working again, they will need the Dilithium and we'll need to know where to go!"

"Any questions, have I missed anything?" He asked.

There were no takers.

"That only leaves security," he suggested. "I know this looks like a safe place. But we do not know what there is here and I'm not taking the risk. We will each do six hours watch during the night on rota. I'll do tonight's. Mr Caerey will follow, then Miss Nine and Ensign Wildman. Any complaints?"

Again no comment was made.

"Okay. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day. I suggest you all turn in."

They all turned towards their accommodation. The Colonel had erected three tents, which he had pitched in a row. Samantha and Naomi Wildman took the centre one. Naomi turned before she entered, "We will go back to Voyager? Promise," she asked.

The Colonel looked at her. "We will get back, sooner or later, Scouts honour!" He promised.

She nodded, happily accepting his promise, and entered her tent.

"Seven, how long can you go without regenerating your implants?" He asked quietly. "I know you can handle a week and probably a fortnight, but we could be here for much longer than that!"

"I do not know," she answered. "Drones have been known to live for many months without regeneration, but my implants have been adapted, they may not last as well."

The Colonel nodded. "When working out the replicator requirements, find a method of re-energizing your implants," he suggested. "We may not be able to regenerate you properly, but perhaps we can prevent them breaking down. I need you too much to let that happen."

He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her gently.

"Why are you so insistent on completing the mission?" She asked from his shoulder.

"The first rule of survival is to have a goal, simply surviving isn't enough. If they're allowed to stop and think, they will see the situation as hopeless and stop trying. If I force them to carry on as normal then they won't think," he said quietly.

She pulled away, "You think the position is hopeless?" She asked pointedly.

"Not while I'm still breathing," he announced. "But it may take a little more time than people realise. Besides this is a beautiful place, I could get to quite like it, especially as the only thing I truly value is here as well." He smiled and winked at her in the light of the lamp. "Now go on to bed."

He got up and walked a little way from the camp and sat down, weapon on his lap. He pulled his flute from his jacket and started to play softly.

Seven watched him go, then turned to her own tent. Listening to the music, as he played, she fell to sleep.

  


Sunrise came up. The Colonel seeing no danger in the morning light, walked to the top of a knoll about a mile from the camp and scanned the surrounds with his set of binoculars. To the north he could see a rolling plain, more than twenty miles away. Even from that distance he could see creatures moving, but not make out what they were. He noted it for investigation in the days to come, hoping for the possibility of meat. To the south and west they were surrounded by a dark forest. It approached within three miles of the camp. Another possible place for food. Then squinting his eyes he looked east, past the camp. About a mile beyond there was a river, he could see it glitter in the morning light. Beyond that were more rolling hills with bushes sprouting at random. He could see nothing moving. He moved back to the camp studying the ground closely.

He arrived to find that Naomi and her mother were up and about. 

"Tea, Colonel?" The Ensign asked, gently.

"Another Princess," he announced, accepting the proffered mug gratefully and sitting down. Naomi giggled.

"I want to apologise for what I said yesterday," she announced. "It was superb flying to get us down in one piece, but I was scared for myself, Naomi, everybody!"

"You only voiced what I was thinking," he assured her.

"Will we get off this planet?" She asked, seeking his eye's.

"Yes!" he said. "But it may take time," he added honestly.

Seven of Nine appeared from her tent, blinking sleepily. To be met by the Colonel holding another mug. "You may need this," he suggested softly. She took it and grimaced as the hot steaming tea scolded her throat.

"There was no danger?" She asked.

"Everything gave us a wide berth," he admitted. "But I saw what looked a little like wolf tracks over that way this morning and a couple I didn't recognise."

Caerey emerged in his turn. Together they ate a quiet breakfast.

"Okay folks," announced the Colonel, when he was happy everybody had finished. "We all have our tasks to do, lets get on with them!"

"Come on Naomi. We're going to find dinner!" He held out his hand to the little girl, who took it happily. Together they walked out of the camp.

"He doesn't think we will get away from here, does he Seven?" Samantha Wildman asked Seven of Nine directly, as the Colonel left with Naomi.

Seven looked at her. "He believes everything he says, he also believes in everything he does. He does not believe in failure," she answered quietly.

"And what do you believe?" Asked Caerey, pointedly.

"I believe in him," she replied firmly. "I have duties to perform," she added, getting up and walking towards the shuttle.

The party dispersed.

  


On Voyager things were progressing. Paris had eased the ship into the fastest currents he could find and was struggling to hold a course in the centre of the stream whilst still keeping the ship pointing in the right direction. Bucking and bouncing, it sped up. The ride was rough, so far it had lasted six hours. As soon as the buffeting had started Janeway had ordered the crew to collision status. Tuvok and the damage crews were being kept busy as the ship itself creaked and twisted under them. Those that weren't engaged in continued repair clung to anything they could find.

"Structural integrity down to 20%, Captain," shouted Kim in alarm from his station. "We can't take much more before we break up!"

"How much longer, Tom?" She had to shout to make her self heard above the groaning ship. 

"Nearly there, just a minute or two," he yelled.

Klaxons sounded. "We have lost part of the outer hull," announced Tuvok. "Section 12, breach is imminent."

"Evacuate decks 10 to 13," Chakotay ordered. 

"Tom, we're out of time, get us out of here!" The Captain yelled.

Paris hit the thrusters to steer the ship into calmer 'waters'.

"It's working, Captain!" He yelled as the vessel rocketed towards the edge of the stream.

The ship came to a halt in an eddy and the ship stopped creaking. 

"We're still 500 Metres from the edge of the stream," advised Tuvok from his station.

"Applying full thrusters, Captain," Paris announced, predicting the next command. Slowly Voyager struggled out of the energy stream. A final shudder heralding its release, then peace.

"I want a full damage report," the Captain shouted. Suddenly she realised the silliness of shouting in the silence, she blushed, then in a more normal voice added. "That was some ride!"

Reports started to come in.

"Eighteen crew injured, three seriously. Structural integrity down at 15%. Sensors are out. Warp Engines are dead, Impulse engines are severely damaged. No weapons or shields. Almost every thruster is burnt out. Deck 12 is uninhabitable," Chakotay read from the screen at his side. "I think that is the closest we've been to being destroyed for a long time," he commented.

"But we're still in one piece," the Captain pointed out.

"Tuvok, concentrate on getting the sensors operational and finding a way of talking to the Away Team, they're going to know where we are," she ordered.

"Captain," Tuvok responded impassively.

"Bridge to Engineering," she called.

"Torres here, Captain," came the shaken reply.

"How quickly can we have power? I want to go and get the Away Team back!"

"Forget warp engines, they're totally drained," she answered. "We're working on the impulse drives, but it's going to take at least two days. We're still looking for all the bits. We should have main power in about six hours though!"

The Captain sat back defeated, her initial elation for having survived the stream, replaced with resignation for her away team. At least six hours until they found out where they were, plus a few more to contact the away team. Heaven knew how long it would take to get back to the away team on impulse drive alone. All she could do was wait.

  


"Are we really going to find food here?" Naomi asked as she and the Colonel walked towards the river he had seen earlier.

"I think it is a distinct possibility. There is animal life here, they have to eat something don't they. It might look a little different to what we're used to. But looking around, I don't think it is going to be that strange. So all we have to do is find it," he smiled encouragingly at her.

"How will we know it's safe to eat?" She asked looking around at the unfamiliar foliage.

"That's why your here, Duck," the Colonel replied, slipping into his colloquial English. "You can use a tricorder better than I can. So you'll scan the items I think are probably good and tell me if I'm right."

"But how will you know if it's probably good to eat?" She persisted.

The Colonel sighed and stopped and knelt by the girl. "You have been taught on the ship, all about cells and the physics of how things live and grow, right?"

She nodded.

"At your age, I was taught that God put all things on Earth," he started. "Everything he created had a value in sustaining him. When I grew up, I found that the idea had real potential, because I found that almost everything does have a value, even the most repulsive. Now this place is remarkably Earth like, so I don't think the differences are going to be extreme, after all the Earth has some really strange creatures of it's own. All we have to do is identify what sort of thing it is we are looking at, then what parts of it are edible."

"I'll give you an example," he offered, seeing her face cloud with confusion. "You see the tall purple flower there, the one that looks like a tube," he pointed to a tall tubular flower a couple of feet from where they were resting. "That reminds me of a plant I saw in the jungles of Borneo. You were taught that insects pollinate flowers by taking the nectar and picking up pollen on their skin, which they deposit in another flower, right?"

Again she nodded.

"I believe that gentleman, doesn't do that. I think the tube contains water to catch unwary insects, which it feeds on. That tells me two things. One, the soil somewhere near isn't very good for growing things and two, if I'm thirsty enough I can have a drink!" He grabbed it, pulling it out of the ground and tipped it into his cupped hand. His hand caught several insects and clean water poured through his fingers. She gasped in amazement. 

"Now this chap here," he continued, pointing at one of the unfortunate victims of the flower. "Looks remarkably like a bumble bee. Remembering our story of Winnie the Pooh, what do bees make?"

"Honey!" She yelled.

"Correct," he laughed. "So there is a beehive somewhere near. Shall we continue on our way?"

They reached the river shortly after. The Colonel examined it and the banks carefully. It was about 10 feet across and about four feet deep at the edges, rocks broke the surface and caused it babble peacefully, reeds lined the bank. The Colonel sighed appreciatively. "I was afraid it was going to be a fully fledged river," he admitted. "A brook like this is much better."

"Why?" Naomi asked.

He smiled at her. "You have to work to get things out of a river. From a brook things can't escape so easily. I think we shall have fish for supper!"

To her surprise he slipped out of his jacket and shirt and laid down at the edge of the bank.

"Now if there is a trout in this river. He'll be here, in the shade of the bank on the outside of a bend," He explained softly. "Now if I lay down here and put an arm in like this, whilst waving my fingers like reeds, we can ease our hand around him thus and hey presto!" So saying the Colonel rolled quickly away, throwing something silvery well clear of the bank.

Quickly he got up, went to the thrashing fish, picked it up by the tail and smacked it hard against a nearby rock.

"As I said, a trout," he claimed proudly, showing her the silver fish.

She clapped in excitement.

"Now run the tricorder over it and I'll see about catching some more," he said. "Then we can see about vegetables to go with them."

They spent another two hours by the stream. Finally they put their haul together, it came to nine fish totalling about 9 lbs, some onions, water chestnuts and something the Colonel found that tasted like cabbage. "I think that will do for the time being, we might find some more on the way back," he said at last. 

Cutting several stout cane like reeds, he fashioned two yokes and hanged their goods from them.

"If you put this over your shoulder, like this," he said, placing the shorter pole on her shoulder. "You'll be able to help me carry our goods home and won't spend the rest of the day smelling of fish."

They set off with the Colonel leading the way.

  


They arrived at the camp site in time for lunch.

"How are you doing with the shuttle Lieutenant?" The Colonel asked after they finished eating.

"Both engines are damaged, but the hull is sound," announced Caerey.

"Can you make a good engine from the two? Will the ship fly on a single engine?" The Colonel asked.

"If I can produce a good engine, in theory it ought to work, I suppose," Caerey admitted uncertainly. "But we would have to lose as much weight as possible."

"Do it!" The Colonel ordered.

"How about the Dilithium, Ensign?"

"I've found the deposit, but we'll have to dig it out. It's about 5 metres below the surface," she announced.

"I'll help you dig this afternoon," said the Colonel.

"Now, communications and power systems, Miss Nine?"

"I have repaired the transmitter, but I am unable to raise Voyager. I am assembling a solar generator for power," she reported.

"They may be too far away. If they took my advice, they may have gone a long way before they could get out of the stream," the Colonel suggested gently.

"They may also have been destroyed," responded Caerey through gritted teeth.

The Colonel ignored the remark. "All in all a reasonably successful morning. Keep it up and we'll be back on Voyager inside a week," he announced cheerfully.

"Naomi, those berries you found. Trot them out please, Duck!" He called. 

"I missed these," he admitted.

"What are they?" Asked Seven examining the green and yellow encased fruit suspiciously.

"They appear to be very similar to Lychees," he said. "They certainly taste like them. If you peel the leathery skin off them, there is a really pleasant, sweet and juicy fruit inside. Just right to relite the taste buds after a ration biscuit. Watch out for the stone in the middle though and don't eat too many at a go or you'll end up with the trots."

Everybody tried one, then finding them as pleasant as the Colonel had claimed, took a handful for later consumption.

He set them to work again. Seven returned to her generator. Caerey to try and build a working engine. Naomi he set to work to collect wood for a fire, warning her not to enter the woods. He himself picked up a pick axe and shovel and followed Samantha Wildman to her prospective Dilithium source.

Reaching it she marked out the area she wanted dug, while he stripped his shirt off again.

As he dug, she admired his rippling muscular body.

"You've done a lot of digging, Colonel?" She asked at length, as he powered a shovel full of earth from the hole that was rapidly forming around him.

"It's a core ingredient in being a soldier, learning to dig in. The quicker you can bury yourself the better the chances of surviving when things get unpleasant," he claimed, moping his brow with his forearm, leaving a muddy streak.

"You like this planet, don't you, Colonel?" She accused, passing a water flask to him.

"I've lived in far worse places," the Colonel admitted, taking a swig and returning the flask. "In many ways it reminds me of some of the nicer places on Earth. Perhaps we ought to give it a name, 'fourth planet of the system G57452' seems so impersonal. Maybe Naomi can think of one for us," he suggested, returning to his digging.

Eventually he hit rock. He straightened his back painfully. "I think we'll need those phasor drills now," he announced. 

Samantha Wildman nodded, impressed, he had been working for nearly five hours without a break and had dug a hole nearly ten feet deep and five feet across. "That's an impressive hole," she assured him. "I didn't think it possible as quick as that."

"It's easy soil to dig in, once you hit your stride," he explained. "Goodness is that the time," he exclaimed looking at the sun, "We've dinner to prepare, the rest can wait until tomorrow. Come on, or the rest will think we've eloped!"

"If only I could prise you away from Seven of Nine!" She laughed, following him back to camp.

The Colonel excelled himself with their dinner. He baked the fish and water chestnuts in the fire he built from Naomi's wood gathering and served them with the other vegetables he had found during their walk that morning, all topped with a fruit sauce made from the lychees.

"I think we have proved another of the Colonels many hidden talents," voted Samantha Wildman smacking her lips in appreciation. "Are you sure Naomi and I can't tempt you away from Seven, we would really like to have a man who can cook!" She added mischievously.

The Colonel looked up from the reed he was working on with his pocket knife, in time to see a flash of irritation cross Seven of Nine's face. "Not even remotely, I am quite happy with Miss Nine, thanks" he assured her cheerfully. He put the reed to his mouth and blew a short tune on it. "Perfect," he announced. "But it's a bit small for my shovels. Here Naomi, you were playing my flute the other day, try this, it's more your size," he handed the the girl the newly created flute.

She took it giggling, holding it as he had taught her the and put it to her own small mouth and blew. Nothing came out. 

"You need to blow very gently," he assured her. "It'll be a little more difficult to play at first and sound a little deeper than my flute because it's wooden not metal. Try again!" He encouraged her.

She tried and came out with a long mellow tone. "Good! Now try the tune I taught you!" He continued.

Haltingly she played 'Friar Jack'. "Now try a little faster," he suggested gently. "Excellent, a real musician in our midst!" He laughed

Samantha Wildman laughed and clapped at the new talent her daughter had acquired from the Colonel. "I'll never stop her playing it," she exclaimed, as Naomi gathered confidence and played faster.

"Good!" Announced the Colonel. "There is more to being an efficient student than straight study. I hope she continues to enjoy playing it. Now lets see if her mother can keep the family tradition and sing to it as well!" He smiled.

"And you two," he called to Seven of Nine and Lieutenant Caerey. "We may as well make it into a full round," he announced, pulling out his own flute and joining in. They responded, embarrassed at first, but started to garner encouragement by the end.

The Colonel led them through the song faster and faster until they lost the plot and collapsed in laughter. Leaving Seven of Nine still singing. He turned to her. "I know you believe that this sort of thing is an inefficient use of time and so on," he said. "But I also know the Doctor has taught you to sing, and he claims you have a lovely voice. For once I'm inclined to agree with him. I also know that amongst the boring clap trap of opera he thinks he likes, he taught you 'Ave Maria'. If I play, will you sing for us, please?" He implored.

"Please, Seven?" begged Naomi.

Seven stiffened. "I shall comply," she stated, flushing. She had been feeling left out with the Colonels attentions being lavished on Naomi and her mother.

"Good," he announced. "Just give me a moment to remember the tune, then start whenever you like."

He played her in. Everybody listened captivated. Her voice to his ears at least was delightful.

"What was the tune you were playing last night, Colonel?" asked Caerey, warming to the entertainment, when she had finished.

"It was the tune to Psalm 23. It's restful, it helps me think," the Colonel admitted.

"That's in your bible," exclaimed Naomi, "Will you sing it too!"

"Please do!" The rest of the party chorused.

"It belongs to a different age, it may not work for you as it does for me!" the Colonel warned, he sang it for them. 

Naomi came in on her new flute, almost perfectly, after the first verse.

"That girl is too clever for her own good," the Colonel thought as he sang.

After that they sang for a little longer, until the Colonel called time. 

"You're on guard tonight Mr Caerey," he reminded the lieutenant. "There are some large creatures about, but the fire should keep them at bay. If they come, expect them from the direction of the woods," he warned. "Good night!"

"I'm afraid I've neglected you this evening, Seven," the Colonel apologised as he prepared for bed, stripping to his shorts. "For that I'm most terribly sorry."

"You were trying to make them forget we are marooned," Seven accused him as he lay down on the floor beside her.

"It was that obvious?" The Colonel asked.

She sighed, as was his custom he wouldn't use her bed, or cuddle her uninvited. She found it frustrating. "Yes!" She said simply. She moved and cuddled up to him.

"At the moment. I'm even more worried about how long I can keep them happy and comfortable than I am about keeping you going," he explained in a whisper. "I believe you are more adaptable than they are. You are less likely to panic or give up."

"How is your solar plant going?" He asked, kissing her gently and sliding an arm around her.

"It is complete. I can connect to it and recharge my implants. It is an imperfect solution, I cannot regenerate properly," she whispered back, snuggling closer.

"But you can survive and that is the important thing," he said, holding her as they fell to sleep.

  


For Voyager the day had progressed badly. Partial main power had been restored, but the demands placed upon it were proving too much too quickly, it heralded a whole string of power 'brown outs', that plunged the ship into darkness.

"I need it to get impulse engines on line, else we don't go anywhere," demanded Torres.

"I need power to enhance Astrometrics, or else we will not know where to go," announced Tuvok.

"We need power to repair structural integrity, or we'll fall apart if we try to move," pointed out Kim.

Janeway sighed at the argument that raged around her. 

"Enough all ready!" she commanded, her temper rising to match her frustration. "We also need it for weapons, communications, replicators and everything else on the ship! We have faced problems like these before. Why are they so problematical now?" She demanded.

"Your list of priorities is more than the ships power can handle, Captain," announced Tuvok. "We must concentrate on Astrometrics, so that we can find the Away Team."

"We need engines to get back to them," started Torres.

Janeway held up her hand to stem the arguments. 

"Tuvok can we still track the energy ribbon?" She asked.

The tacit Vulcan nodded.

"B'Elanna, how quickly can you get the ship moving at all and generating more power?"

"A day, maybe eighteen hours," she admitted.

"Do it," she commanded.

"Kim, reinforce structural integrity, while we're waiting, so that we can move. We can then follow the stream until Tuvok gets the long range sensors operational," Janeway finished. "You've got your instructions now do it and don't bother me with things you should be able to sort out yourselves!"

Chakotay looked at her sharply over the outburst. 

"I think you need to rest, Captain," he suggested gently. "You've been sat there for over 24 hours, you need a break. I'll keep them working," he promised.

"I can't sleep. It's my fault they're stranded," she muttered.

He smiled at her. "Perhaps you should try what I do in these situations, meditate!"

Chakotay handed her a small red hard back book. "The Colonel gave this to me," he said, "when we compared our beliefs. It's not Leonardo but it's what he believed in, so perhaps it will help?" He said, referring to her holographic mentor.

She took it and smiled weakly at him. "Let me know the minute we're underway," she announced, walking to her Ready Room.

As she sat down on the sofa in her quarters, book on her lap, she remembered the prayer the holographic padre and offered at the Colonels Ball. She said it quietly to herself, with a few small changes:-

"Eternal Father, 

Help me guide your lost flock, aboard the USS Voyager. 

Protect her and her crew with your mighty hands. 

So that I may guide them home, that they rejoin their families in joy.

This we ask in Jesus's name.

Amen."

For the first time in her life she sat and started to read a Bible. Eventually she drifted to sleep.

  


The night passed peacefully again on the planet for the Away Team. 

"There were some snuffling noises during the night," Caerey reported to the Colonel as he emerged from his tent. "But I saw nothing."

The Colonel nodded an acknowledgement. Whilst the team were consuming breakfast he examined the ground around the camp, then walked up to the knoll he had used the previous day as a vantage point and looked around again. "Everything appears as it did yesterday," he thought. He was about to put the binoculars away, when he noticed a purple blotch that had appeared in the North, near the herd of what he assumed were cattle. He examined it carefully, trying to make out what the blotch was. In the end he was satisfied that it presented no immediate danger. He rejoined his crew for the completion of breakfast.

"How is your engine patching going?" The Colonel asked Caerey.

"I didn't think it possible, but I can do it!" He announced with confidence. "With Seven of Nine's help I should have it ready for testing in two days!"

"Very good. Keep on it. Any problems?" The Colonel asked.

"Yes. We will have to minimise the weight and it will not be fast," Caerey admitted.

"Keep up the good work," the Colonel ordered.

They broke up again as they had the day before, each to their own duties.

  


"Captains Personal Log," Janeway ordered of the console in her room. 

"Finally, after sixteen hours concentrated effort, we have the ship underway at quarter impulse. Long range scans have identified our position and the power situation has improved. But it will take at least fourteen days to get close enough to pick up the Away Team, or gain the Dilithium we need to get the warp engines online and weapons working."

"Repairs to the communications array are in hand, but we don't know if or when we will be able to contact them. My only hope is that they can remain in good health until we can get there." 

"I read part of the Colonels bible. If I look for the meaning behind the words then I can see much to help me come to terms with my own thoughts. I now understand why the Colonel carry's one and what inspired Leonardo De Vinci," she added.

Her communicator bleeped. "Tuvok to Captain," it announced.

"Janeway here," she replied.

"We have contact with the Away Team, Captain."

"I'll be right there," she leapt from her chair and ran onto the bridge.

"It's Seven of Nine, Captain," announced Tuvok, from his station.

"Put her on!" Janeway drawled.

"Seven, it's good to hear from you again," she announced, more calmly than she felt.

"The feeling is mutual, Captain," came Seven of Nines calm voice.

"What is your situation?" Janeway asked.

"We have commenced repairs to the shuttle engines. We will test it within 48 hours."

"That's good going, I thought it was badly damaged?" Janeway announced, surprised.

"Lieutenant Caerey has been very efficient," came Seven's simple reply.

"How's the rest of the party?"

"We are in good order and happy. Ensign Wildman has started to mine Dilithium. The Colonel is finding food and entertains us at night. I think he is enjoying the experience!"

The Captain smiled, she could well see the Colonel enjoying an expedition in wild country. 

"We are making progress in coming to collect you," she announced, "But at the current rate, it will be over a week."

"Acknowledged, I shall inform the Colonel. We shall adapt," Seven signed off.

She turned to Chakotay. "You said I should believe in the Colonel the Survivor. A shuttle crash they should have died in and he's having it repaired. Then he continues with his mission. I believe in him now! I wonder if he knows the meaning of failure?"

Chakotay nodded. "I don't think he does. His experience in similar circumstances certainly tells. As Tuvok says, Not Star Fleet', but very effective," he admitted.

  


The Colonel looked out from his vantage point the following morning. He looked for the purple blotch he had seen the previous day. It wasn't where it was. Quickly he started to scan for signs of it. Finally a new one had came into view, less than fifteen miles from their camp. Desperately he examined it to try and make out more details. He caught his breath as he finally gained an image of what they were, they appeared to be plants, like the one he had pulled out of the ground for Naomi the day before, but much bigger. He swore under his breath and hurried down to the camp.

"Mr Caerey, how quickly could you get the shuttle working, with help?" he asked quickly.

"I'm draining fuel from the missiles at the moment, so tonight possibly. Why?" He asked in surprise.

"I think we may have to move in a hurry," the Colonel advised. "I need to check something I've seen from the hill. I will be back tonight. In the mean time please take any instructions from Seven of Nine."

Seven of Nine looked at him sharply as he turned and grabbed a handful of iron rations a water bottle and some of the Lychee's that were left from the previous day.

"You are leaving us?"

"I don't like inexplicable things," he answered cryptically. "Flowers that move more than five miles a day come under the category of inexplicable. I'll be back tonight!" Then he was gone, almost running out of the camp.

Puzzled by his rapid change of mood they set to work, stripping the shuttle.

  


The Colonel wasn't certain why he was worried by what he had seen. A sixth sense was warning him there was a danger and it was seldom wrong. He settled to infantry step, ten paces quick march, ten paces jog, so as to cover the ground as quickly as possible. Under two hours later he was laying on a ridge, overlooking the purple flowers he had seen that morning, watching them through his binoculars. He could scarcely believe his eyes.

The plants did indeed look similar to the purple flower he had picked the other day, but the similarity appeared superficial. These were nearly eight feet tall and five across. Shaped like a giant straightened phonograph trumpet. The narrow leaves at the base of the the small fly catcher had gone to be replaced by four vertical tubes around the base that rattled woodenly. The stigma that was so short, was now waving more than 15 feet above the plant like a giant tentacle. At the end of the tentacle was a long serrated hook. All this was acceptable to him, improbable as it looked. What caught his attention was at the base of the plant. The flower and tubes projected from a bulb, nearly four feet diameter and two thick. Below the bulb three thick roots supported it's weight, the problem was that each root in turn was moving.

He watched mesmerised, time forgotten, as they crawled along the ground, he had never seen anything like it. Suddenly, what looked like a dog, bolted from the undergrowth right in front of the advancing flower bed. Immediately the nearest plants lashed out at it with their tentacles, extending them to well over thirty feet long. The creature screamed as it was lashed. It fell, still screaming and thrashing. The tendril from one plant wrapped around its body and pulled it back, then started to rip it's still struggling body apart with the hook, dropping anything that caught into the bell of the flower.

He put down the binoculars, sickened by what he had witnessed. "They're like Triffids!" he thought, remembering a story he had read once. A thin shadow waved in front of him. With out thinking, he rolled from his position, bringing his rifle to firing position and shot through the tentacle of the plant that was less than ten feet behind him, all in one smooth operation. Only the fact that he had been laying so still had saved him from being ripped to pieces like the creature he had witnessed. 

The sound of the shot alerted the plants, their huge heads twitched this way and that as they tried to locate the source of the noise.

Without waiting, he scrabbled to his feet and started running, checking his direction as another plant appeared in front of him. A tentacle lashed at him, he dived to one side and it whistled past his left shoulder, then ducked again as a second lashed towards him. A third whistled towards him, he grabbed it and yanked hard, pulling the plant down, a mixture of blood and gore spilled from it. Again he started running, only to be tripped by another tentacle wrapping itself around his leg. Shifting his rifle to his left hand he desperately hacked at it with his sword, cutting clean through the tightening thong. Dropping the sword he brought his rifle up again and shot out another three tentacles, then picked it up again. He started running again, parrying blows with the sword blade and rifle barrel.

After fifteen minutes, he stopped, blowing hard and looked back. He had out distanced the plants, they were no longer in sight. Carefully, he worked his way back towards them. He found them about a mile away. There appeared to be some commotion, with much woody clacking coming from the tubes, interspersed by periodic animal screams. They were still advancing, but now they had formed a long line, nearly 800 yards long and eight deep. They were systematically beating out the undergrowth. Anything that tried to make a break for freedom was immediately set upon by the leading plants, anything that tried to stay put was taken out by the next rows. 

Quickly he mentally divided the line in half, then half again, and a third and fourth time, then counted the plants. "Nearly 5,000 of the bloody things," he thought. "More than I can cope with and they are heading towards the camp!"

Carefully he worked his way around the line and examined the area they had covered, looking for any sign that offered a potential method of survival. He found nothing, so he made his way around them again and continued to watch as they systematically stripped the land. As the afternoon gave way to evening they bunched up together and seemed to dig in as he watched. He was tempted to see if they physically went to sleep at night, but was immediately discouraged as he saw a tentacle lash out at something on the ground.

He made his way back to camp, mentally measuring the distance. They had travelled over seven miles that day. 

It was pitch dark by the time he returned. He was challenged by Seven of Nine, as he approached the light he could see her with phasor at the ready. She ran towards him.

"We heard shots," she said matter of factly. "There was a problem?"

"There is a problem, a big problem. The natives are unfriendly," he answered. 

"Is there a drink available?" He asked.

She fetched him a mug of coffee from the fire, then sat beside him as he described what he had seen.

"They are a threat," she stated when he finished. "Can they be destroyed before they reach the camp?"

"When they are moving in a line, no. If I knew where they were going to stop before they got here, then perhaps I could use the missile warheads as mines. It would thin the numbers a little, but I doubt it would stop them for long," he stated flatly, then yawned

"You are tired, you must regenerate," she ordered him to bed.

The following morning he once again approached his lookout point, fear and trepidation gnawing at his stomach. Once again he scanned the horizons, he could not see them, but he felt their presence hidden in one of the valley's. He returned to the camp, he took the proffered mug from Ensign Wildman and sat down.

"Seven has told us what you told her," stated Caerey. "I will test the engine this morning, but there is another problem."

"Go on," said the Colonel carefully.

"We cannot lighten the ship enough to take everybody, at least one of us must stay behind!"

The Colonel nodded. "When will you have the shuttle ready to launch?" he asked quietly.

"If nothing goes wrong, tonight," answered Caerey.

"How long will the flight take? And how quickly could Voyager return?"

"I have calculated the shuttle will require four days to reach Voyager, another two to get the warp engines on line, then another two days to get return here," answered Seven.

Again the Colonel nodded. He turned to Ensign Wildman. "Prepare tight rations for the flight, allow for five days for the four of you, get it stowed, with the Dilithium, Ensign."

"Seven, see if you can contact Voyager and brief them on what's happening. See if they can transmit a homing signal, that way you can beam ride the shuttle home. I'll be back at lunch," he ordered finally. Getting up with his weapons he walked from the camp, back to his view point.

"He took that calmly," commented Caerey, as they watched him leave.

"He knows he will have to stay, he is the only one that can survive here." Samantha Wildman pointed out quietly.

Seven of Nine contacted Voyager and gave them the latest news. The Captain listened to her in silence, then confirmed that there were no major improvements in Voyagers status. Then she followed him to his vantage point.

"Those bastards are moving faster this morning, Miss Nine" he commented without turning around. "There nearly half way already and I can't think of a damned thing to slow them down," he sighed, finally turning around.

"I think now would be a good time for me to pack," he smiled weakly at her. "But I will hold them off for long enough to get the shuttle airborne."

"I wish to remain with you!" She stated flatly. 

He stopped and looked at her. "Why?" he asked simply.

"The chances of the shuttle reaching Voyager will be improved if two remain," she answered flatly.

"That's poppy-cock and you know it," he retorted irritably. 

She hesitated, "I do not wish to lose you, or allow you to be damaged, fighting off the 'Triffid' attack."

"I don't want to lose me or get hurt either, but there is no choice. I'm the only one who can survive here and of least value to Voyager. My duty is to ensure that you, Wildman, Caerey and Naomi can get off the ground. Yours is to get them back to the ship. The rest can wait until everything's sorted itself out," he snapped at her, then stumped back to camp. She watched him go, swallowing hard.

  


"I guess that we have about three hours before our plant friends crash our party," he announced at lunch. "That is you deadline Lieutenant, if you can't get off by then, then you're not going anywhere. I intend to lay a few surprises for our horticultural nemesis, that may slow them up a little, but don't bank on it."

"I'm not good at good bye's, so I wish you Bon Voyage and leave you in Seven of Nine's hands. If you decide you want me back at some point, I'll be somewhere here," he smiled at them. 

Picking up his pack he left, marching in the direction of the plants.

"We shall prepare for launch," commanded Seven. "Lieutenant Caerey, you will start the initial preparations. The sooner we depart the quicker the Colonel will be able to disengage for safety."

Caerey warmed up the engines as they took their places, Seven of Nine took a last despairing look from the doorway and sealed the hatch. She spotted something out the corner of her eye, she turned to look at it and the girl holding it.

"Naomi Wildman, you are aware we cannot take anything that is not essential for our survival," she scolded, pointing to the wooden flute she was trying to hide.

"Please, Seven. It doesn't weigh anything and it may be all I have of the Colonel!" Pleaded the little girl desperately.

She relented, thinking of her own thoughts for the tall soldier. "Very well. Maybe your playing will help the voyage go smoother," she agreed reluctantly.

Taking her place in the pilots seat, she increased power. The shuttle shuddered and started to rise to an altitude of 50 metres, but wouldn't go any higher.

"We are still too heavy," she announced, bringing the shuttle down again.

"There was still power available," pointed out Caerey.

"It was insufficient," she protested hotly, "We have 100 Kilograms of Dilithium on board. Voyager requires ten. I shall remove half of the load. We will pick it up again when we return. Assist me!" She demanded.

Caerey helped her remove the buckets of crystal from the ship.

Behind them an explosion showed that the Colonel was starting to deploy his tricks in an attempt to slow down the advance.

"You will take the shuttle back to Voyager. I shall remain here, with the Colonel," Seven ordered him.

"We should have the power for all of us to get away now!" Caerey protested.

"Never the less, that is my decision. You will comply!" Demanded Seven of Nine.

Caerey nodded, seeing a Triffid appearing in the distance, he shouted "There here!"

"You will leave, now!" Seven demanded again, picking up a phasor from the discarded pile of equipment, she started to walk towards the plant.

Caerey shut the door and scrambled into the pilots seat. Applying maximum thrust the Shuttle lurched rapidly into the sky.

"Seven has decided she needs to remain with the Colonel," he announced to the remaining stunned crew.

"Mommy, why did Seven really want to stay with the Colonel?" A bewildered, Naomi asked her mother.

Her mother sighed deeply. "Sometimes, when people are really in love. They make very rash and dangerous decisions, just to be with the person they are in love with," she explained.

"But why did the Colonel not want her stay?" She asked.

"Because he loves her and wants to protect her, just like he does with us. He won't let people get into a dangerous position if he can prevent it, even if it means he has to put himself into danger," she explained again.

Naomi settled into an uneasy silence.

  


The Colonel had seen the shuttle lift off and then settle again. He immediately set off to get as close as possible to the ship, with the intention of providing close support for what he thought was a failed take off. He burst onto the landing site in time to see Seven of Nine firing at a Triffid and it exploding. He saw a second, emerge from the undergrowth, less than thirty yards from her.

"Seven, down!" he yelled, firing at the new threat. 

She dropped to her knees at his command, and started to scan the surrounds for more threats, and fired twice at another Trifid as it crawled into range. He ran to her and roughly picked her up.

"Grab your solar generator and make for the river," he ordered her brusquely. "Whatever happens, don't look back."

Desperately, she did as he had bid, as the main Trifid force appeared on the site. He in his turn rummaged in the Shuttles discards and pulled out another pair of phasors. One of them he used to turn the lead plants into a ball of flame, the other he desperately set to overload. He shot at another three Trifids, then tossed the now screaming phasor into the midst of the pack. He ran after Seven of Nine. Catching her, he pulled her to the ground, just before the overloaded phasor exploded in an incandescent ball of fire.

Mind reeling from the concussion, he looked back, the thirty or more plants that had appeared on the landing site were now burning stumps, the plants that were following were following were being held back by the fire.

"Come on," he commanded. "Before they start coming around!"

He grabbed the solar generator from her, and lifted her to her feet again. Half carrying her, he led her to the stream and across it. There they sat down and watched the Trifids rattling to each other.

"If we're lucky, they'll give up on us. They'll almost certainly stay there tonight, then move on again in the morning. I'll go and see what remains of the camp then. Maybe the replicator is in one piece, so we can get more suitable clothing for you. You will need it, we can't have you running around naked, people will talk," he commented, pointing at a tear in her suit leg.

"I'd better take a look at the scratch now though," he said gently, pulling the torn material apart and applying an antiseptic ointment to the scratch.

"Any more damage I should know about?" he asked, when he had finished.

"I have bruised my other arm, and my chin," she informed him.

"I won't ask you why you stayed," he said gently as he treated her arm. "I'll simply put it down as a selfless act to ensure the shuttle had the power to take off. If I thought otherwise, I would have to shoot you for disobeying a direct order. And that would be a great pity, as I can't think of anybody I would rather be marooned with."

"Now about that chin, stick it out and I'll treat that," he continued.

She tilted her head back, holding up her chin. He took it gently, examining it then kissed it gently. The kiss became more passionate, as he kissed his way down her neck then back up to her mouth. Finally she wrapped her arms around him, letting herself fall back onto the grass, pulling him down on top of her.

"Not to have your presence, would be unacceptable," she murmured in his ear.

  


The following morning, after he had satisfied himself that the Trifids had gone, he led Seven back to the landing site. Much of what had been left had been destroyed, the replicator although damaged was still operational. He set Seven the task of replicating stronger clothes for herself and he proceeded on to their campsite. He found a mug and mess tin in one piece amongst the debris. The tents had disappeared, and everything else that they had left destroyed. He returned to Seven to find out what else was usable from the shuttle.

"The replicator has failed," she said, as he approached. She had, however, managed to replicate a set of combat fatigues similar to his own before it had failed and had put them on.

He examined her critically. "Not the most flattering clothing in the world, for your figure," he admitted. "But I think they will be more practical, and last longer!"

From the rest of the wreckage they managed to find another phasor, which the Colonel pocketed, a sheet of plastic, which he folded for his pack and some webbing. The webbing he constructed into a sling to accept the solar generator. He placed the unit on Seven of Nines back and strapped her to it. "You will need this," he pointed out quietly. "We will have to find a new campsite, there is nothing left here."

They set off, following the streams course.

  


The Shuttle rattled badly as it entered orbit. Carefully Caerey rotated the small ship and set course for Voyagers positional beacon and set the ship into warp drive. It achieved a maximum of warp 2. It was a little less than he had hoped, but would still mean they could reach the crippled Voyager in less than the original 4 days estimated.

He turned to the Wildman's, trying to think of something to say. Samantha Wildman stopped him. "If your going to apologise for leaving Seven of Nine, don't," she said. "She did what she thought was right and what she wanted to do. The Colonel will look after her."

"I was," he admitted, "But I was also going to apologise for getting us in this mess, it was all my fault!" He exclaimed.

"I cannot forgive you for putting my daughter at risk Lieutenant," Ensign Wildman replied levelly, "You'll have to answer to the Captain for that! Just get us back to Voyager safely."

They descended into silence.

  


Captain Janeway waited impatiently for the shuttle to dock. Torres had had Engineering preparing the Warp Engines for the last two days. Everything had been stripped, cleaned, polished and reassembled to unheard off levels of perfection. Nothing would stop the re-initialising of the drive in record time, Torres had promised the Captain, just as soon as the crystals arrived.

The shuttle finally docked. The door opened and the three crew stepped out to be met by the Doctor and his tricorder. Quickly he dragged the remote sensor over them. 

"Hmph! They appear to be in perfect health Captain. But I wish to carry out a more thorough check in Sick Bay," he announced.

"Very well, Doctor," she replied.

"Report," she demanded of Caerey, "Where is Seven of Nine and the Colonel?"

"They stayed behind, when we found we could not remove enough weight to take everybody, Captain," he reported.

"The Colonel made me a flute!" Interrupted Naomi, proudly waving the instrument at the Captain.

The Captain allowed herself to be distracted. "My, that looks like a good instrument, can you play it?" she asked quietly.

"Yes Ma'am," the girl replied.

"Then perhaps I'll come and listen later, but go along with your mother to sick bay and let the Doctor check you over properly," she said gently. She turned back to the more immediate problems.

"B'Elanna, have we enough Dilithium to get Warp Engines on-line?" She demanded.

"Plenty," announced Torres, chasing an engineering crew out of the shuttle with the containers of crystals. "I must say, Caerey's modifications to the drive are almost inspired," she commented.

"The Colonel has that effect on people," the Captain admitted.

Caerey cleared his throat. "Captain," he said quietly.

"Lieutenant?" She asked.

"The shuttle crashed because I failed to take sufficient care during servicing. I request to be relieved of my duties!" He stated flatly.

The Captain looked at him sharply. "Why?" She asked incredulously. "No don't tell me, it will wait until we get the rest back. In the mean time you may consider yourself under arrest and confined to quarters, as requested. Tuvok take him away."

"As you say, Kathryn, the Colonel has an effect on people," commented Chakotay.

The Captain smiled. "Lets get the Warp Drive online, then we can discuss it properly."

They left the bay.

  


  


Raymond Gower Fri 17/Mar 00

Thu 01/Feb 01

Tue 25/Jul 00

14931

Revision 3

01/02/01 1-08 Stranded 1 of 1

   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.plus.com
   [2]: http://www.thestoryboard.co.uk/



	9. 1-09 Rescue

# 1-09 Rescue

  
  


_Continued from 1-08 Stranded.._

_Voyagers problems get worse as the ship is captured and her crew are forced into slavery. The Colonel and Seven of Nine, come to terms with living on a primitive planet, until a potential rescue appears on the horizon.._

_Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead._

_The story line and the Colonel are my own._

_Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail _[_story@rgower.f9.co.uk_][1]_._

_If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway._

_This story is rated PG on the UK sensors ratings_

_©R Gower 2000_

  
  


Captain Janeway tried to relax in her ready room. She knew that Lieutenant Torres would do everything in her power to warm up the warp drive in record time, but it would still take another day, possibly even two, given the reduced power levels on the ship, to get it operating properly. Then another two to get back to the planet and find Seven of Nine and the Colonel, if they were still alive.

She had let Tuvok and Chakotay debrief Lieutenant Caerey and Ensign Wildman, not trusting her own judgements, clouded as they were with desperation at the plight of her missing crew. 

She had listened to and read their debriefing notes, searching for some crumbs of comfort, but found none. She had even looked up the name 'Trifid' in the Star Fleet database, but found no reference. 

In more normal circumstances she would have fled to the Holodeck and attempted to get inspiration from her mentor Leonardo De Vinci, but there was insufficient power available to drive a holodeck simulation. She had tried reading more of the bible that Chakotay had given her, when the ship was in the energy stream. But visions of giant plants walking across the ground killing everything insight, haunted her. She was still blaming herself for the shuttle disaster that had led to the stranding of her crew.

The door chime went.

"Enter," she called, wretchedly.

Tuvok stood in the doorway. "Two members of the crew wish to speak with you, Captain," he announced. "I told them you did not wish to be disturbed, but they were insistent. They claim the Colonel gave them instructions to see you!"

"We've had communication with the Away Team? Why wasn't I informed?" She demanded incredulously.

"No, Captain," Tuvok replied stolidly. "They were given their instructions before they left."

The faces of Naomi and Samantha Wildman appeared nervously from behind Tuvoks back.

"Okay, let them in," Janeway sighed. Inwardly she was glad of the interruption.

"You had instructions to see me?" she asked, quietly. She noted that Naomi was still carrying the flute the Colonel had made for her, it made her uneasy.

"Yes, Ma'am," replied Ensign Wildman. "He told me to offer his compliments and give you this," she announced holding out a bottle, "He also told me to ensure you drank at least half of it, even if I had to drink the other half."

The Captain took the bottle and examined it suspiciously. "What is it?" she asked, as she uncorked and smelt it.

"He described it as a twentieth century nerve tonic," Ensign Wildman answered. "He was most insistent you should drink it."

"But I've only one tea cup, and I cannot use the replicator for another," she protested.

Samantha Wildman, produced two high ball glasses with a flourish. "It seems the Colonel keeps these in their quarters. I think he still has difficulties getting what he wants from the replicator on a regular basis," she announced.

"You've been in his quarters?" The Captain was shocked, quarters were regarded as sacrosanct, the only private space a crewman could have.

"Had to, to get the bottle. The Colonel was quite insistent and precise, both in what I was to do and how you would react," the Ensign replied again.

The Captain sighed and took the two glasses, pouring the contents of the bottle into the two glasses and handing one to the Ensign. I suppose we should follow his orders.

She sipped the golden liquid, carefully, tasting it's flavour then a warm honey like afterglow.

"What is it?" She asked again, in wonder.

"He called it Metheglin. I believe it's made from honey and he got it from Kellor," answered the Ensign.

"Well it's a nice medicine, I'll give it that," the Captain commented. "I've a drop left for you, Naomi," she announced, pouring the remains of the bottle into her tea cup.

"That's all right, Captain," the girl replied. "You should drink it. I've got instructions too," she announced proudly.

"How much does he know about me? He must read me like a book!" she asked in exasperation.

"I believe he often understands people better than they do themselves," agreed Ensign Wildman sagely. "He got us to enjoy ourselves in what should have been a desperate situation, inspired Lieutenant Caerey to achieve something impossible. The only person I don't think he fully understands is Seven of Nine, that's why he loves her so much," she continued.

The Captain nodded, realising the truth in the statements. "And hates doctors because it's so fake," she commented. She drank some more of the mead, feeling it smooth her frayed nerves.

She turned to Naomi. "Let me guess. He asked you to play something to me, that he believes will be a comfort!" She guessed shrewdly.

"Yes, Captain. And get you and mommy to sing it," Naomi answered. "He wrote the words out for me to give to you," she announced, handing over two folded sheets of paper from the Colonels notebook.

The Captain took one and unfolded it. "I recognise those words from the bible Chakotay gave me. It's Psalm 23, The Lord Is My Shepherd, isn't it?" She asked.

"Yes, Captain," replied the girl.

"I suppose, I should be glad I can do something he doesn't expect occasionally. Even if it is only that I've read some of his bible," she announced wistfully. "You had better play it a couple of times, until I can get the tune to fit the words," she suggested.

They stayed and entertained her for two hours, then left as the Metheglin worked it's last magic, sending the Captain into an easy sleep.

"She'll wake up like a bear with a sore head tomorrow," commented Chakotay, when they reported the Captains condition. "But I am grateful, she hasn't slept properly since we went into the energy stream. I'll check on her a little later."

"The Colonel said it would have no side effects," advised Ensign Wildman. "He said even Seven can drink it without getting too drunk!" She added as they left the bridge.

  
  


Seven of Nine sat on a grassy knoll on the edge of the corrie that was to hold their new camp. Her Borg assimilation lines were plugged firmly to the solar generator, greedily sucking up energy from the unit in a desperate attempt to regenerate the implants in her body. 

He had insisted they picked it up at the expense of anything else during their flight from the Trifids. She was glad now they had. The three days of continuous march, dodging more packs of the terrifying plants, had taken their toll of both her physical strength and the technology that was still part of her body. In the end, after she had fallen for the third time, he had dropped his pack and picked her and the heavy generator up and had then carried her another ten kilometres to this secluded valley.

Even though she usually disdained sentiments, she had to admit the location was beautiful. It was a small secluded corrie set into the hillside, covered in soft grass with tufts of rocks and small trees, more like large bushes spread around. The steep sides gave protection from the worst of the wind. A brook ran through the valley, at one end was a small waterfall falling into a pool, at the other it ran through a narrow gorge set in the lip of the valley and on into the valley below. The top of the corrie was lightly wooded by trees around two sides. If she hadn't known that the Trifids were rampaging a mere 10 miles away on the plains below, she could have forgotten they existed. Apart from an occasional cry from a bird, she could have been the only living thing on the planet.

She let herself reflect on why she had become so attached to the Colonel. The Captain had told her before they had come to the planet, a week ago, that she should simply accept the situation, but it was not something her enquiring and analytical mind would allow her to do. 

She tried to assess it logically. By her normally applied standards, he was not the most intelligent person on Voyager, seeming to rely more on instinct and his version of applied 'common sense', than technical competence. He was protective of her, but he was similarly protective of everybody on the ship, even at the risk of his own life. He was friendly to her, more so than anybody else, other than perhaps the Captain, but again he was just as friendly to everybody else. He could be violent, that violence was directed at any form of danger, it was not a reason for love. He always listened to her, without judging what she said or did, but so did the Captain, when she had the time. She found comfort in the times he held her, whenever she felt in danger, alone or angry. Even here with the dangers that they had faced with the Away Team, he had singled her out for very special and personal attention. He always made time for her, she suddenly realised, that made her feel like the most important thing in the galaxy. 

As a Borg, she had not needed any of the desires or emotions of a normal human, the need for friendship, protection and comfort, were simply not relevant. When she had been made human again, she had suddenly felt the loneliness and pain of an isolated individual, trying to make themselves noticed in an otherwise busy universe that was trying to survive. The Colonel was willingly supplying everything required, seemingly without asking for, or taking, anything in return. The math still did not entirely add up, but it was the nearest thing she had ever come to an answer, she decided.

She looked around anxiously for the Colonel. Once he had placed her on the knoll and had satisfied himself that she was as comfortable as possible, he had left her to collect his own pack. That was more than four hours ago, the afternoon was wearing on, and she was getting worried at his extended absence.

"Boo!" A quiet voice came from behind her.

She jumped and turned to see the Colonel sitting on the grass behind her. She could have sworn he hadn't been in sight when she had looked less than a minute before.

"A penny for your thoughts?" He asked. "You were miles away."

"I was worried about your extended absence," she protested.

"Didn't think I would leave my Princess on her own, did you? Some despicable villain might have come along and whisk her way to his castle," He laughed.

"Your attempt at applying humour to the situation, is not appropriate," she replied in relief, some of her natural haughtiness coming back.

"Nevertheless, our little hovel on the hillside is ready for your occupation, and dinner is in preparation, Your Highness," he teased her, bowing low in front of her.

She relented in the face of his continued light hearted banter. Recognising the form of speech from a holodeck program he had found, she played along. "Why, thank you, fair prince. You may take me to your castle, upon your white charger!" She announced, hoping she had got the inflection right.

He beamed at her, proving that she had got everything right. Strangely she felt pleasure in the knowledge.

"Our castle is a pole and two sheets of plastic sheeting. The white charger will, unfortunately, be my back. But the sentiments there. Still it's only for a week!" He commented more seriously.

"I am capable of walking," Seven announced, getting up stiffly.

"Good," he announced. "I'd hate to think of you getting fat, because of a lack of exercise," he quipped, ducking as she took a swing at him. Taking her hand he led her to the campsite he had selected. She arrived to find he had built a fire and had some sort of stew bubbling over it.

"You have been busy," she commented, as she settled onto a log by the fire.

He grunted a reply, as he dug out mess tins from his pack, and stirred the stew with a stick.

"Don't ask what it is!" he advised, as he served her with a generous helping of a rather unappetising meal. "I wouldn't tell you if I could, just accept it is edible and tastes better than it looks. I'll try to do better tomorrow, when I've had a chance to look around."

They settled for an evening in each others company.

  
  


Captain Janeway woke slowly from her alcohol induced slumber. Drowsily, she checked the chronometer on the wall, it showed that over 10 hours had elapsed since Ensign Wildman and Naomi had been in her rooms, but she felt too relaxed to worry about the time loss. There was still plenty of time before the ship recovered it's Warp Drive potential and nothing else could have happened, otherwise she would have been called. She allowed herself the luxury of a shower, before she returned to the bridge, more refreshed than she had for over a week.

"Good morning!" She announced, casually as she stepped on the bridge, and sat down on her chair. "Status report?" she asked of Ensign Carver, who was on the bridge watch.

"Warp engines are scheduled for repair completion in about three hours. Ma'am. We are currently proceeding on course at one third impulse," he duly replied. "Structural integrity is recorded at nominal levels, the outer hull has been repaired. Shields and phasors will not be repaired until warp power is available, but torpedo tubes are operational," he continued.

"People have been busy!" she commented. "Where are they all?"

"Commander Chakotay ordered them to rest, Captain. They should be returning to duty anytime now," answered the ensign.

She nodded at the wisdom of the action. She had not realised how tired she had been until this morning, the rest of the crew would be in no better condition.

Chakotay stepped from the lift. "Captain," he said, spying Janeway in her seat.

"Good morning," she chimed. "You knew about the Colonel's instructions?" She asked quietly, as he sat in his chair next to her.

"Sam Wildman informed Tuvok and I she had instructions from the Colonel to help you relax. She didn't go into details but it seemed worth the risk," he admitted.

"I don't approve of people deliberately trying to make me drunk," she informed him.

"Will that be one or two months replicator rations from the Colonel?" asked Chakotay lightly. "He must have a good three months of them available, and he won't let anybody acting on his orders take the punishment," he pointed out.

The Captain sighed, "You're right of course. I can't demote him because he's not Star Fleet. I can't remove his privileges because he doesn't use them. The brig doesn't worry him and I can't put him off the ship because he already is and he's too useful to be without him for long."

"And he was right, you needed the rest," added Chakotay.

"There is that as well," she admitted.

Paris, Kim and Tuvok stepped on the bridge and took up their normal positions. They all looked a lot fresher than they had been the previous night. She greeted them cheerfully.

"All I want now is Warp Drive and the Away Team and my day will be complete," she announced, tapping her communicator.

"Bridge to Engineering, where's my engines?" she demanded.

Vorik's bland voice came on. "We are initialising them now, Captain. They will be ready in 72 minutes," the ever precise Vulcan answered.

They settled back to wait.

  
  


Seven of Nine woke late, the Colonel was missing. She put her head out of their shelter and quickly looked around. The sky was clear and blue, suggesting another warm and dry day. On the rekindled fire there stood a coffee pot, gently steaming. Spread across the bush in front of her was her normal skin tight clothing. The Colonels shirt, jacket and trousers were spread across another bush. The Colonel himself was nowhere insight. 

She pulled the suit of the bush and examined it carefully. It appeared to have been repaired, the tear that had been in it a few days ago had been miraculously disappeared, the only witness being a tiny row of stitching forming a slightly off centre crease, that had been repeated on the other leg to make it look more of a fashion statement that a repair. It had also been washed. Lazily, she wondered when the Colonel had managed to find the time to make such meticulous repairs.

She put it on. The battle dress she had been wearing for the last few days, was more practical, but she preferred the feeling of her normal attire. Suitably dressed she approached the coffee pot with some trepidation. Whilst she found, like the Colonel, she preferred the taste of tea to coffee, she couldn't develop the Colonel's preference for it to be stewed to the point of being pure acid. She needn't have worried, the pot contained nothing but water, a pot next to the mug contained sachets of tea leaves. She carefully prepared herself a mug of tea, wondering what the Colonel would do if the tea ran out before their rescue. The beverage seemed to form his general purpose cure all for all disasters and was as much a part of the Colonel's physiology as the uniform he wore.

Mug in hand, she started to explore the surroundings. She was finally drawn to the sound of the waterfall. As she approached, she heard the Colonel's voice, he was singing cheerfully. Carefully she approached the pool. Hiding herself behind a bush she looked out. She saw the Colonel in the pool by the waterfall, water up to his chest, washing his hair. As she watched he plunged his head under the falling water, then emerged again, spluttering, wiping water and soap from his eye's. He made his way to the bank and pulled himself out behind a ridge of rock, disappearing from sight. She turned to make her way back to camp. 

She barely got half way back, before his voice stopped her. "The water in the pool is lovely this morning, not too cold, just right for a bath and brush up," he announced smiling at her. He was dressed in shorts, with a towel around his shoulders looking slightly pink. He handed her her mug again, she had put it down whilst watching. "Not taking up bad habits, are we?" He grinned, eyes twinkling.

She turned away, feeling slightly embarrassed, "I was wondering where you had gone," She explained.

He turned her around again and examined the repair he had made on her suit. "Not bad," he admitted, rubbing his finger along the seam, "It's almost straight and matches the other leg, but I would recommend you don't tear it again. I don't think it will repair again in that area."

"Why did you repair it at all?" She asked, curious.

"I like it, I wouldn't be a man if I didn't," he admitted, "Besides you're fond of it."

"That's why you love me?" She challenged.

"Good heavens No! Please, I'm not that shallow," he protested vehemently, "I love you because you're special!"

"Let's go and have some breakfast, then sort out some sort of plan of attack to keep us amused for the next couple of weeks," he suggested.

  
  


"Captain, I'm picking up something on the sensors," announced Tom Paris. "It appears to be some form of ship, but it's huge!"

"On screen. Hail them," Janeway ordered.

"No reply, Captain," advised Tuvok.

The view screen shimmered into life, showing a darkened ship. It appeared like a huge box, massive solar panels glinted in the weak starlight.

"The vessel is 45 kilometres long, 20 wide and 17 high," advised Tuvok. "Mass, 15 billion metric tonnes, the structure is largely hollow," he continued.

"That's impossible," Janeway claimed in exasperation. "That makes it 100 times larger than the biggest Star Base, it would need fantastic amounts of energy to keep it from collapsing!"

"Nevertheless it exists, Captain," Tuvok replied impassively.

"Tom, do an orbit of it, whatever it is," she demanded, her curiosity raised.

"Aye, Ma'am," Paris replied, adjusting course.

"The solar panels, form the ships propulsion," Tuvok advised. "They appear to form sails for solar winds, that could explain the lack of power signature."

"Sort of a galactic 'Mary Celeste'," suggested Chakotay.

"The simile may not be inappropriate," Tuvok agreed.

Voyager finished its orbit of the strange vessel.

"If I weren't in such a hurry to reclaim our people I'd elect to investigate this further," announced Janeway. "Tom, note this vessels location, it's travelling slower than us so we might come back to it later. Then resume course." 

As Voyager pulled in front of the alien ship, Kim announced. "Captain, we're loosing power from the engines again!"

"Bridge to Engineering, what's happening down there, why's the impulse drive failing?" Demanded the Captain.

"I was about to ask the same question, Captain," came the voice of Torres. "Something is leeching away power and we can't stop it."

"We have been caught in another energy stream, Captain," announced Tuvok. "It appears to be coming from the alien vessel."

"Tom get us out of here!" the Captain demanded in alarm.

"Trying, Captain," Paris declared. "It's no use, impulse engines are not giving us enough power."

"Engineering, I need a miracle, I need warp power now!" She tried again.

"Sorry, Captain. We've lost that as well!" Torres announced.

Desperately the Captain went for the final solution available. "Tuvok, torpedoes, full spread."

"Torpedoes away, Captain," he started, as two torpedoes darted from the rear tubes. He checked. "The Torpedoes are failing, Captain," he advised, "They lost drive as soon as they left the tubes. I have aborted the firing sequence."

"Captain, the front of the ship, it's opening!" Announced Kim in alarm.

Incredulously, they watched, helpless, as Voyager was pulled inside the ship. The bows of the giant ship closing firmly as they entered.

"Torres to Bridge," Torres voice came over the comms' system, "Power systems have restored themselves. What's happening up there?"

"We have been trapped," replied the Captain, forcing herself to respond. "The question is why?" She asked in wonder.

"Captain, there are a number of other vessels inside the vessel with us," reported Tuvok.

The entire bridge turned to face the Vulcan.

"External lights," snapped the Captain. "Lets see who's here!"

The lights came on and they gazed in amazement as the ship came to a stop.

"There are five other vessels," intoned Tuvok, "All appear undamaged, all have full life support, four have life signs, two are Hirogen," he continued.

"Hail all the vessels," the Captain ordered, "Let's see if anybody wants to tell us what's happening?"

Tuvok did as commanded. "I have the Hirogen vessel, Captain."

"Put them on," she drawled. As the view screen shimmered into life displaying the familiar pinched face of a Hirogen, she announced, "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Ship Voyager, who are you?"

"My name is Scaron of the Hirogen. I am aware of who you and your vessel are," he announced, "You have been entrapped as well, despite your science?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Perhaps we can work together to find a way out?" She suggested, calmly.

"Weapons are useless," Scaron informed her, "All power is lost as soon as it hits the walls of the vessel."

"Perhaps there is another way?" She suggested mildly.

"Using your science?" The voice sounded scornful.

"Who or what are the other ships?" Janeway asked, changing the subject.

"The vessel behind ours is a Caron exploration vessel, they were participants in the game," Scaron announced, "A worthy quarry. The other is a Darforn freighter, we do not bother with them, there is no entertainment hunting cows. The dead ship is a Pyron warship, they killed themselves when they were captured but they're self destruct system failed, very unusual."

"How long have you been here?" She asked.

"Six of your months," the reply came.

"I suggest we all meet face to face, then perhaps together we can find a solution to the problem," the Captain announced, "and meet the Caron's and Darforn's, I believe they are listening!"

"Very well Captain, as there is little else to do, I may as well come and speak with you. How do you propose to get me to your ship?" Scaron replied.

"I'll find a way," she promised, "Out."

"Signal the other ships with the proposal, make sure they reply," she demanded of Tuvok.

"Captain to Torres," she called.

"Torres, here Captain," Torres responded immediately.

"Can you get the transporters working?"

"I think so, Captain," she answered.

"Do it!" Janeway commanded, "We will have guests!"

"Do you trust the Hirogen, Captain? Chakotay asked, concerned.

"As the Colonel says, circumstances make strange bedfellows. None of us have anything to lose," she pointed out.

"I have received an affirmative reply form both of the other vessels, Captain," announced Tuvok.

"Good, all we need are transporters."

  
  


Five hours later Captain Janeway and her senior officers were gathered in Transporter Room 1, waiting for their guests. One by one they were beamed aboard. First came Scoron and his second Tabrick, "This is a waste of time, Captain," he announced as he stepped off the transporter pad.

"I'm not so sure yet," she replied, carefully.

The second party was the Darfonian commander. "I am Papilon, Master of the Darforn freighter Camber," he announced. 

The Captain looked down on him. He was barely four feet tall and reminded her of a furry puppy, big doe eyes in a gentle but intelligent face, small hairy body and long legs and arms. 

"How do you do. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, welcome to my ship," she announced, resisting the urge to tickle him behind the ears.

The final members were the Carons. A tall and elegant female stepped off the Transporter. "I am Carys, Commander of the exploration ship Expar. This is my mate Boros," she waved at the stocky male beside her.

Again Janeway took a moment to view the figures before introducing herself. She was tall and slim, well over 6 feet, her skin was bright blue, two long tendrils appeared from the back of her head and fell to her waist. The male was the opposite, much shorter at just over five feet tall, but he was also broad. Again two tentacles fell from the back of his head, but this time only came to his shoulders.

"Good evening," she announced at last, "We have a conference room prepared, so if you will follow us we can talk," she suggested.

"How did you get here?" She asked, coming to the point immediately everybody was sat down.

"We were on a mission to observe the Nebula," answered Carys immediately, "There are a number of features about it that are unusual, including an energy stream that drains power from systems. We now believe it may be an artificial creation. We were attacked by the Hirogen, when this vessel drifted near, we lost all power and were sucked in, just like you were."

"We know about the energy stream," the Captain commented drily, "We've only just managed to get out of it."

"How?" asked Carys, surprised, "We have lost two ships to it in the last three years!"

"We had advice from a very practical crewman," Janeway replied honestly.

"You say the nebula is artificial?" Tuvok quizzed, "What makes you think so?"

"There is a large mass at the centre, we believe it may be a planet, that is unusual. But we have not been able to get near enough to investigate it. Also the Nebula is moving and changes direction, as if guided," the Caron male answered.

"I will vouch for the Nebula moving," announced Papilon, "My ship was in the Frith sector when we were captured two years ago. This ship we're in seems to belong with it."

"We do not know this quadrant by name, where is the Frith sector?" Asked Chakotay.

"It is approximately two light years away from here," answered Carys.

"We have met many races, but none like you Captain Janeway. Will you explain who you are, where your from and why you are here?"

The Captain took a deep breath. "We are also explorers, but we are from a different quadrant of space, we call it the Alpha Quadrant. We were dragged here by a being called the Caretaker five years ago." 

Finally, she asked, "Who's vessel is this?"

"We don't know, nobody's seen it's crew!" Announced Carys.

Papilon spoke up, "Amongst our people there is a story of a race of machines that hijack ships and use them for food. The story describes a vessel like the one we are in."

"Pah!" Spat Scoron, "A fairy tail, to be expected from cattle."

"Gentlemen," the Captain intercepted quickly, "We have nothing to gain by starting an argument. All of our ships are fully functional, except for propulsion. All our crews are alive. That suggests that whoever brought us in here wants us alive for some purpose. What we need to know is what the purpose is, who wants us and how to get out again."

"All of our remote scans have failed to provide information on the ship. I have lost three crew members trying to physically inspect the vessel," advised Carys.

"Okay is there some other way we can examine the ship?" Asked Janeway.

"We could try ultrasound, Captain?" Suggested Torres quietly.

"Go on, we're listening," said the Captain.

"We can't put a transponder on the ships hull because it's electrical and will fail, but perhaps we could put a cup and a piece of fibre onto it. It won't be as detailed as one of our full mass scans, but it may help us map any weaknesses," She suggested, "It's something Naomi showed me after a session with the Colonel." She explained hurriedly, embarrassed by the primitive solution.

The Captain looked at her incredulously. "It's that man again. We really ought to start learning from him and not the otherway around. As we've nothing to lose, we'll try it," she said finally. "Get it set up and we'll find a means of attaching it to the ships hull."

"I'd like to hold these conferences at regular intervals so that any knowledge we glean can be shared," she announced to the assembly, "If we are to find a way out of this we will need to work in co-operation with each other."

"I agree," announced Carys crisply, "Even the Hirogen may be of assistance, they have excellent space suits and personal propulsion systems, they can go places that we cannot reach, They can probably place your cups better than anybody else," she challenged Scoren.

"Very well," he reluctantly agreed, "I shall provide people to attach your device. I cannot see any benefit, but in the spirit of co-operation we will do it."

The meeting broke up, each delegate returning to their ships.

  
  


Scoron was as good as his word, he had two crew members presented in space suits and propulsion units as soon as Torres and built her Heath Robinson listening sets. Over the next twelve hours, guided by Boros, they placed on various parts of the hull. Finally they finished and started to analyse the data.

"We haven't got a lot of information, and we haven't had the time to examine the whole ship," admitted Torres to the conference the following day, "But what we do know is that the skin is very thin, less than 12mm thick in places we think, and the material is not very dense, it's only the energy field that stops us breaking out. The energy field appears to be generated by a wire mesh set into the skin. We can also hear machinery operating near the back of the ship, we've left transponders there to listen for any changes."

"Can we cut our way out?" suggested Papilon enthusiastically, "My cargo includes cutting tools."

"We tried power tools, but they failed as soon as they got near the mesh," commented Torres.

"Could we use hand tools?" asked Janeway.

"It would take months," protested Scoron.

"And if anybody touched the wall their suit would fail immediately," pointed out Torres.

"We have plenty of time," commented Carys drily, "I will set my people to work to find a suitable insulator," she finished.

"Captain, your Engineers idea was primitive but has given us more information than we thought possible," she remarked.

The Captain nodded in agreement. "Let's hope your people can find suitable inspiration to find a way to cut through this ships hull," she commented.

The meeting broke up again.

  
  


Seven of Nine lay back and watched the blue sky. She had taken to coming to this spot everyday so that the solar generator could catch the full effect of the sun during the midday hours, at least that was what she had told herself, another part of her was hoping to see some sign of a shuttle craft or even Voyager. Even by their most pessimistic estimates the ship was over two months late. 

She sighed, considering their position. Of their original electrical equipment only the Solar Generator was still working and she cherished it accordingly. The Tricorder had failed a month ago, the Colonel was using what he described as Mark 1 'Suck it and See' method of identifying objects that were safe to eat. Apart from one occasion, when he had selected wrong and she had spent three desperate days finding food for herself and nursing him, his efforts had been remarkably successful.

She marvelled at the way he had simply accepted the situation and had adapted to suit their seemingly increasingly precarious plight. She drew comfort from his seemingly indestructible spirit, like she drew energy from the generator. It was helping her to adapt better than she would have imagined possible. The most surprising thing she had found about her own adaptations was that she now enjoyed his singing and joining in as he taught her the words. Until now she had considered music a wasted effort that achieved no purpose, now she decided that belief was wrong, along with many others she had cherished.

She was, she realised, becoming ever more devoted to the Colonel and his ways and missed his presence. It was kindling fires inside her that she couldn't begin to understand, but were deeper seated than the difficult symptoms she had hitherto experienced. She wanted him to be her own collective, she realised, feeling almost selfish of the sudden discovery.

He had accepted the demise of the tea supply with calmness, which she considered amazing considering how important it was to him, and had simply found a new source of flavouring the water by testing the leaves of various berry plants that were dotted around the area, finally finding one that they both agreed was acceptable. He had dried animal skins for repairs to their clothing and any future use. Those animals were now being brought down by a bow that he had constructed in a desperate attempt to conserve ammunition for his old rifle. She had watched scornfully as he had made and learned to use the weapon, but was impressed when he had finally mastered the device and had buried two arrows deep into a tree trunk in less than five seconds. Since he had used it with good effect to maintain a steady flow of protein from the plains below. Of the Trifids, although they infested the plains, they seemed to have no interest in exploring the hillside they were on.

"I think we can safely say that Voyager has got herself in another fix," remarked the Colonel sitting down beside her.

She looked at him critically. "Perhaps they decided they no longer required our presence," she replied sharply.

The Colonel jumped on the sentiment quickly, "The only reason why Captain Janeway wouldn't come looking for us is if they were in deeper shit than we are. You know that because you've seen her do it on more than one occasion," he stated vehemently. "Whilst this may not entirely suit a social girl like yourself, you cannot deny it is reasonably safe and peaceful," he continued gently.

She rolled to face him. "When I was a Borg, I crashed on a planet similar to this one. With three other drones, we had to survive for 25 days," she said, "But we were unable to adapt to the situation as you have done, we found the silence unnerving and were unable to forage and hunt for food. When I was made human again by Voyager, I was driven insane by the loneliness caused by the absence of noise. Now I have been stranded on a planet for over three months with only a single human for company, it seems unnatural, but I find it sufficient," she remarked.

"The difference is that you have some control of the situation," the Colonel commented, "If you suddenly decided to run naked and screaming over the hills you can do it, apart from my blushes there's nothing to stop you. The fact that you have company and one that knows a little about surviving and loves you dearly may also be helpful."

"How do you adapt to survive on your own?" She asked.

"You don't," he replied. "You learn to exist, if you're lucky you can exist for quite a long time, but eventually it will kill you. Humans need some company, it doesn't have to be much, but we need to feel there is somebody else there." 

"You adapted to being the only living thing on the Klingon vessel," she pointed out.

"It was only for a few weeks," he protested, "If I was on my own here, I'd probably last another four maybe six weeks, before either I ate something bad, got set upon by those damned plants, or simply went mad. It's only because you are here and give me something to focus on that I can survive!" He admitted quietly.

She reached for his hand and held it tightly for comfort. He smiled weakly at her, regaining his normal more cheerful air.

"While we are taking about bad feelings, I think it may be wise to move our camp to the cave in the valley," he announced.

"Why? We are safe where we are," she asked curious.

"Elementary my Dear Miss Nine. We need something more stable than a bit of plastic sheet if we're going to be stuck here any longer. Apart from a couple of showers, there hasn't been any real weather for nearly a three months and I don't like those dirty big clouds coming this way," he pointed at an ominous black cloud that was flooding towards them from the South. "If this was Earth and I saw a bank of cloud like that approaching from a different direction to the prevailing wind, I'd be tempted to suggest we may be in line for a hurricane," he explained, "And our camp can't survive that. Come on we'll move our stuff, then I'll see what I can do to make you feel more you."

"I cannot be anybody but me!" She protested, confused, as he pulled her to her feet.

"You'll see," he announced. Placing the generator under one arm he held out the other for her to take.

Such was the paucity of equipment that it took less than an hour to move everything the four hundred yards to the cave. The Colonel carefully rebuilt their fire in front of the cave. Under a small opening in the roof, he had carefully constructed a primitive chimney and fire place.

"Some of the trappings of home," he announced, "I'll try and improve it as I find suitable rocks."

He picked up a bundle that he had dropped by the cave mouth. "And now to tend to the needs of my Maid Friday," he announced, taking her arm and leading her out across the valley.

"Where are we going?" She demanded.

"Down to the pool," he admitted.

"Now go behind those rocks, strip and get in," he commanded when they arrived, "I'll be along in a moment."

She did as he bid, gently letting herself into the cold water, it came to her waist. There was a splash from the other side of the bank of rocks that she had used to hide behind while stripping. The Colonel appeared and checked when he saw her standing nervously near the edge of the pool, he approached her hand out. "Come on," he encouraged, "A little deeper." He guided her towards the waterfall.

"Stand right there and do as I ask," he announced as they reached the edge of the fall. She could feel its spray hitting her shoulders and face. He released her hair from it's bun then produced a bar of soap and commenced to working it into a lather, finally working it into her hair. Gently he massaged her scalp, then worked down her back, she could feel her own muscles relax under the firm massage.

"Duck your head under the fall," he whispered, "Then I can wash the soap out."

Again she did as he requested and he eased the soap out as he had promised, she sensed that he had become tense in his actions. Finally he let her up again, gently pulling her hair back, he squeezed the surplus water out.

"If you wish to wash your front I'll leave you the soap," he advised huskily, "I think I've done as much as I can safely do for a while at least. I'll see you back at the camp." He turned and waded away without another word, he seemed to be having problems.

She watched him leave, wondering if the problem he was obviously suffering from were related to the ones she felt stirring inside. She too turned and made for the bank.

She returned to the cave to find the Colonel quietly sitting and staring dejectedly into the fire. She moved towards him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Miss Nine. I should have controlled myself better," he said bitterly, fiercely poking the fire with a stick. "I was hoping to get you to relax and perhaps enjoy yourself, but I was losing control of my feelings."

He got up, "There is a bundle of stuff over there, you should try them on, I think they will fit. When I've cooled off I'll see if I can trim you hair properly without cocking that up," he announced and turned to leave.

She moved to hold him, but he stopped her, "Please don't!" He managed.

She watched him leave the cave in astonishment and frustration. Advice that the Captain and B'Elanna Torres had given, kept sliding through her mind like beacons, "He wants you to be sure you want him!", "If you want him that badly, you may just have to take him yourself and not wait." 

She turned towards the bundle on the floor and untied it and examined it's contents carefully. One item appeared to be a pair of slacks, made from soft skin. She laid it out on the floor beside her, then turned to the next item, they were a pair of calf length boots, the soles were firm without a distinct heel and knocked together woodenly. Finally she picked up the third and final item, it appeared to be a jerkin made from the same material as the slacks. A slip of paper fluttered from it, curious she picked it up and looked at it, it seemed to be an 'aide-memoire' to himself, "I need to find some more material for sleeves, before I give it to her!" It read. Idly she wondered what had changed his mind and when he had found the time to make them.

Biting her lip, she removed the combat trousers she wore and measured herself against the new slacks, then slipped them on, thrilling to the feel of the soft fur that lined them, hiding the less soft seams. The outside of each leg was a set of leather lacing faced by a flap that could be laid across to prevent marking and the cold. Determinedly she set about lacing them tightly to her legs. Once on, she inspected them. They seemed a little short ending about three quarters of the way down her calves, the top rested comfortably high on her waist, with tight lacing they fitted like a second skin. They also seemed a little stiff, but they started to ease as she moved.

Next she tried the boots, her own ships boots had long ago given up the unequal struggle and had defied the Colonel's best attempts to keep them in one piece. She slid her foot into the toe and stamped her heel into place. Another set of laces went from the back of the ankle to the top, finishing about three quarters of the way up the calf.

Again she examined herself as best she could, before testing the jerkin. Unlike the bulky battle jacket she had had to wear for the last six weeks, this felt light as she pulled it over head. He had even managed to pleat and bone it in the right places for it to fit around her breasts. She marvelled at how he had managed to create such clothing that fitted so well without measurement. Again another set of laces and flaps allowed it to be fastened tightly against the elements. These she chose not to do up tightly, simply dropping the ends into the bodice. The length was such to cover the waist of the slacks, the back was slightly longer, allowing her to bend over before leaving a bare midriff.

Satisfied that everything fitted comfortably she turned to the fire and put some water on for tea, figuring that the Colonel would want some. She sat and listened to the gathering storm outside, thinking of what she could do to make him unwind when he returned.

  
  


The Colonel almost ran after he stumbled out of the cave. He didn't know where to go but he knew he had to get away from the cause of the emotions he was feeling. He followed the track they had formed that led to Seven of Nine's vantage point. He followed it to the ridge and sat himself down on a rock then looked out towards the setting sun.

"You stupid old fool," his inner voice screamed at him, "You're alone on a planet with the most beautiful woman you've ever met. One that actively tries to be in your company, just as you try to be with hers. You're a man, what did you expect? You couldn't expect not to feel something?"

"I should've been able to control myself!" He cried at the gathering wind.

"You can't control those feelings any more than you can control the weather, you've tried before remember?" The voice in his mind sneered at him.

The rain started to fall.

"What about Seven, doesn't she matter? It's her body, she doesn't need or want me imposing upon it with clumsy actions," desperately he tried again.

"What makes you so certain she doesn't?" The voice returned, "Oh, the clever Colonel, who understands everybody so well, doesn't need to ask does he! He just knows what's good for them and gets them to accept it. But he doesn't know about her desires or himself, does he?"

"I don't want to hurt or frighten her, it wouldn't be right," he sobbed.

"Well boy. I'll tell you the only reason she hasn't told you what she wants is because she hasn't worked it out herself yet! But she will, then she'll get fed up waiting for you to stop cowering away from those same feelings and leave you. Damned good thing too, you're a coward!" It sneered again, then left him to sob pitifully as the rain soaked through his clothing.

He was finally brought to his senses as hail stones started to sting his neck. He looked around desperately in the dark as the wind howled about him. Getting up, he started to make his way back to the cave. He slipped and tumbled into the valley. Picking himself up again he shook his head trying to regain his bearings. Realising he had lost his sense of direction, he beat down the sense of panic that was threatening to rise and concentrated. To his left he thought he could hear the sound of running water, he made for it. After a few dozen strides he realised he was knee deep in the stream, carefully he turned and fought his way up it, towards the falls, frequently slipping, sometimes falling into the water. From the pool he could recognise the route back to the cave by the ghostly trail of rocks left by the bright lightning flashes that were now predominating. A lightning strike hit the ground behind him with a phwompf, making his hair stand on end. He picked up the pace until still slipping and sliding he reached the cave entrance.

"Honey, I'm home," he called gently, then fell head first as a hail stone the size of a football glanced off the back of his head. The lights went out.

  
  


As Seven saw him pitch head first through the cave mouth, she sprang for him, dragging him into the protection of the cave. Desperately she inspected him for damage and was relieved to find that apart from a lump that was forming on the back of his head there was no serious harm. Carefully she removed his sodden clothes, hanging them near the fire where they gently steamed, then dried him on the towels they had used earlier. Finally she rolled him into the sleeping bag and covered him with a skin. Satisfied he was warm, dry and safe, she settled back to wait for his recovery.

An hour later he regained consciousness, and looked around dazed. She was there, holding his hand and watching him. Slightly embarrassed he managed to speak. 

"One day I'll manage not to get myself hurt and need you to rescue me and put me to bed," he quipped.

"One day you may have to rely on the Doctor!" she scolded, "This time it was only a glancing blow and your skull is unnaturally tough."

"Perish the thought," he muttered, as she helped him sit up and drink from a mug of tea.

"Isn't this where we first came in?" He quipped again.

"No," she replied coolly, "It was the Captain that fed you tea, we were on the ship and you were recovering from severe injuries. There is little similarity, your attempt at humour is inappropriate," she continued.

"Why did you leave?" She interrogated.

"I was party to a set of feelings for you I thought inappropriate and potentially damaging," he admitted carefully. "I didn't and don't want them to upset or harm you!"

"And now?"

"Behind the headache, they're still there, but they are more manageable. Maybe I've had a little sense knocked into me at last," he commented as he lay back again. He changed the subject, "I'm glad that the clothing fits. I was a little worried about the shirt, I've never made anything like that before!"

"It is acceptable," She stated, "Thank you!". 

She stood up and did a turn so that he could examine the way it clung to her body. 

"Why did you make them?" She asked gently, kneeling over him again, deliberately teasing him with her presence.

"Well, you never seemed comfortable in combat dress, and your normal clothing is beyond repair and I found the ideal replacement material," he started, "I just put the three together," he finished lamely. 

"Are you deliberately trying to get me going again? You are aren't you?" he exclaimed in alarm, as she hovered closer.

In the firelight he saw her smile at him, it was only the second time he had seen it. "I wish to experience those feelings you think inappropriate, I believe they are similar to the ones I have experienced for six months, I wish to investigate them," she said candidly, "I believe they are caused by sexual desire. Your resistance will be futile! You will be made part of my collective." Sitting back onto his his stomach she pulled the jerkin over her head, then removed the boots and slacks and slid into the bag with him.

"I can't resist, I want to, but can't not anymore," he whispered as he caressed her. Then more sharply, "You've been reading the doctors books again, haven't you?" As she reached for the source of his problem.

"They are unreliable, but helpful," she murmured in his ear, feeling him respond. 

  
  


The dispirited council of war met again on Voyager and compared notes. The Carons had managed to devise a method of insulating equipment from the energy shielding of the ship they were in. Over the previous eight weeks they had struggled to find a method of breaking through the hull. So far, despite some initial success, they had had no luck. They had tried drilling then painstakingly sawing through the hull, but within an hour the mesh generating the energy damping field regenerated itself. Efforts to blow a hole through the hull using explosives had also failed. The only thing that had any success was passing fibre optic sensors through holes they had made between the mesh.

"The fibre sensors have enabled us to locate our position," Tuvok announced to the planet. "It appears that we are approaching the fourth planet of the system G57452," pointing it out on the star chart projection for the benefit of the non star fleet members of the committee.

"There has been a change to the sounds from the ship," commented Boros, "Maybe the ship is arriving at its final destination."

"We know this planet," announced Carys, "There is little there, the atmosphere is high in Nitrogen, a few animated plants and some herds of bovine creatures live on it. There is also a tendency for violent electrical storms. It does not sustain intelligent life," she added.

"I hope you're right, I hope this is it's final port of call," Janeway commented drily.

The Scoron turned to her in surprise, "Why, Captain? Are you suggesting there may be an opportunity for a breakout."

"Perhaps more of a break-in. Two of my crew are on that planet, they've been there for the last three months, we were trying to rescue them when we were captured," she explained.

"Two people can't live there without supplies for that long," claimed Boros dismissively, "They are probably dead!"

"A year ago, I would probably have agreed!" the Captain admitted, "But one of them is a specialist in survival. The crew that were with him claim they ate better there than on the ship, he can live there."

A high pitched gurgling voice interrupted her. "We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile, You will obey!" It announced.

"Who are you? What do you want of us?" Demanded Carys loudly.

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will obey!" The voice repeated.

"We serve no one!" snarled Scoron, getting up from his seat.

Again the voice repeated itself, "We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will obey!"

A slightly different metallic voice cut in, "You will disembark! You will obey! You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will obey!"

"Not ones for long and meaningful conversations!" Commented Paris, "The Colonel is going to love these guys if he finds them!"

"Captain, an airlock has been attached to access hatches 3 and 6," announced Ensign Kim.

"I think we need to return to our ships," announced Papilon, his worried puppy look taking on an even deeper character.

Janeway nodded absently as they left. "Tom, pick up medical supplies and get the Doctor hidden. Chakotay, assemble the crew. B'Elanna make sure the warp drive is available."

"You're not suggesting we simply walk off the ship on demand?" Torres demanded.

The Captain nodded, "We've been captured alive and were totally powerless to stop it. If they wanted to kill us, I think they could do it. Don't you? Our only chance for the time being is to co-operate," she prophesied.

The truth of the prophesy was played out for them as the irritating screech drew their attention to an image showing on the view screens, "We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will observe!" It was of one of the Hirogen ships. It showed the Hirogen, Tabrick and his crew attempt to attack whoever ar whatever was in the airlock. Suddenly they stiffened as a white gas enveloped them. The gas quickly dissipated leaving nothing more than a shadow on the floor where the figures had been. Sickened they turned away from the screen. "We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will obey!" The metallic voice screeched at them again, as a reminder.

Dispirited they waited for the airlock to open. As it did so they caught their first glimpse of their captors. They were attached to a device like a circular mobile hostess trolley 600mm diameter, with sides extended to within 30mm from the floor and looked like grey pulsating prunes, about 300mm across, from which tentacles reached out and operated small controls. A range of small tubes ran from various parts of the creature to the trolley, liquid could be seen pumping through them. A single large eye was located in the middle of what they assumed to be the front of the creature, it looked at them malevolently from behind a glass dome, the whole assembly was just over 1.5 Metres tall. "It's just a brain in a case," thought the Captain. A number of metal arms waved threateningly from the sides of the trolley.

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will obey!" One of the creatures screeched, rolling forward. It extended an arm, pressing it against a crewman, who screamed then slumped as he received a massive electrical shock. Tom Paris was beside him in a moment, running a tricorder across him. "He's only stunned, Captain," he announced in relief, "Anymore and he would have been cooked."

"Pick him up," the Captain ordered, "We must attempt to remain in one piece for as long as possible, or else we might not get out of this!"

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will obey!" The Tharg creature screeched again, as they pulled aside making it clear they were to leave the ship. Slowly the crew marched off the ship, then moved quicker as the Tharg started to use their prods to force them to move quicker.

They were herded aboard a large shuttle, looking around, Janeway estimated that there was slightly more than a thousand captives aboard. The shuttle was finally detached from the rear of the mother ship. It plummeted towards the planet buffeting them as it descended. It lurched then settled with a crash onto the ground, the shock dropped them all to their knees. They didn't have chance to recover before the Thargs, with liberal use of their electrically charged cattle prods, were forcing them towards the door again. At the door they were met by a much larger unit.

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will work! Resistors will be terminated!" It announced, proving the point by gassing another of the captives, this time a Darfon crew member, he screamed in agony as he dissolved in front of them.

Captain Janeway's face went white from the shock, she took a deep breath, trying to gain control of her reeling thoughts. "What do you want us to do?" She asked, terrified that the creatures would be sadistic enough to kill everyone for pleasure without the slightest provocation.

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! You will build our city!" The Tharg announced.

"What with?" demanded Janeway, looking around warily.

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will obey! Resistance is futile! You will work!" The Tharg announced as a hopper landed heavily by them. It's doors automatically opening to reveal sheeting like that used to clad their ship.

"I recommend we do as he demands for the time being," suggested Chakotay in her ear, "I think they enjoy killing."

She nodded, "So do I," she muttered, then louder, "Let's do it," she commanded.

Voyagers crew set to work unloading the hopper, quickly followed by both the Darfon's and Carons, finally the Hirogen, after much prodding and another vaporisation, also started work. The panels they were manhandling proved to be quite light, each section measuring 3 Metres by 1.5 Metres and 12 mm thick weighed less than 40 Kg and could easily be handled by two people, but after four continuous hours even these began to feel heavy. They were forced to continue for another three on top. Finally, when they finished completing a roadway 6 Metres wide encircling an area about 200 Metres square, they were permitted to collapse exhausted, in the area bounded by the road. Thargs took station on the roadway at 4 Metre intervals around the the edges of the open area effectively forming a compound to contain them. 

Four trolleys approached the compound and disgorged a load of blocks and containers. The captives examined the blocks and containers carefully, discovering it was food and water they each grabbed a handful of blocks and started to eat. As they ate the Thargs started to erect bright lamps around them

"If this continues for long, there will be fights for food and water," Tuvok pointed out to the Captain as she nibbled a block. "Then there will be no opportunity to plan for an escape."

"I agree. Get Scoron, Carys and Papilon over, we'll have to sort something out, before we kill each other," she stated.

"We must work together to find a way of getting out of this," she reminded the commanders when they had assembled.

"If we fight each other over food and water the Tharg will think we're performing for them. I propose we nominate people from each ship to control the issuing and stocking of food and water supplies."

"How many do you suggest, Captain?" asked Carys, "Our ships company is much larger than yours, we need much more effort to distribute than you."

"And the Darfons is larger still, and the Hirogens have the smallest," pointed out the Captain, "I suggest six from the Darfon crew, four from yours and two each from Voyager and Hirogen ships."

They nodded in general agreement.

"What have we learnt about our captors and how do we escape?" she asked.

"The road we have been building forms a power grid, it powers their seats," pointed out Boros.

"The hopper is a Stratospheric Elevator. It is pressurised and contains life support," announced Torres, who had had a chance to work inside it, notionaly to organise the unloading. "If we can take that we can get back to the ship!"

"What will that achieve?" Asked Tuvok, "We will still be trapped!"

"How about getting past the guards and out on the planet?" Asked Paris, "The Tharg are restricted to operating on the roads, they can't follow us!"

"It won't work," commented Carys, "We don't have anybody who can seek out the food we need to keep everybody alive."

"We have one that might, but we don't know where he is on this planet," pointed out Chakotay, "And our guards may not be willing to move out the way so we can run off!"

"You have referred to this crew member before, Captain. What is he that is so special? What can he do we can't?" asked Scoron.

"He can survive off the land and is free for a start," she stated, "He is also in the company of one of our most technically capable crew members. If he knows we are here, then there may be an opportunity for them to help."

"We need ideas, more facts and some sleep," announced the Captain, "We know they have a weakness, they need these roads, how can we exploit it? We'll meet again tomorrow night." She dismissed them.

"Scoron is right, Kathryn, what can Seven and the Colonel do on their own, even if they know we are here?" asked Chakotay when the others had left.

She turned to him, "I don't know, but your the one that said I should have faith in him. Don't go cold on me on that idea," she demanded.

  
  


The morning after the storm found Seven of Nine reaching precariously for another crop of berry's that were hanging from the branch that she was laying on. She had been harvesting this particular tree for several days, the fruit it bore, they had found was particularly refreshing, both sweet and juicy. Now she had plucked up the courage to actually climb into it's lower branches to collect some from the boughs she couldn't reach. From her waist hung a leather bag into which she placed the fruit as she picked it. The fruit itself was the same size as an apricot and covered by a hard green shell. They grew in clusters of four on short stems close to the branch.

Finally she snatching the last pair from the branch, satisfied herself that she had sufficient for the day and climbed down. She decided she could allow herself a brief rest after her exertions and sat down to recover, her back leaning against the trunk. 

Her never idle mind tried and come to terms with the events of the previous night. Like many things involving her activities with the Colonel, they had introduced a new raft of sensations that she still could not fully rationalise or describe. The only feelings that she could definitely identify were the extreme exhilaration and pleasure she had felt throughout the activity, as he had brought her to body shattering climaxes of sensation, then the warm afterglow as she had fallen asleep in his arms afterwards. He had talked of the pain he might cause, but apart from a small twinge during their cavorting and the stiffness she felt in her muscles when she had got up, she could recall no discomfort. Apart from one small clumsy act, caused by her own inexperience, she did not believe she had caused him any pain, far from it she believed that it had released much of the anguish he was feeling. 

He had woken that morning with a start and with acute embarrassment had desperately started to apologise for his actions, but she had immediately stopped him by holding him close and kissing him, tenderly at first then with increasing passion. He had responded hesitantly, but had broken off, leaving her frustrated. 

She had often wondered why humans put such importance in their sexuality and their relationships with the opposite gender, now she was realising why. Silently, she thanked B'Elanna Torres for her advice so many months ago, wishing she had taken it sooner. Then she wondered girlishly if B'Elanna went through the same sensations during her sessions with Tom Paris. Charitably, she decided she did, less charitably, she decided they weren't as intense.

A speck in the sky caught her attention, thinking it was an apparition, she looked away then looked for it again. Finding it again she tried to examine it, shading her eye's with a hand, she wished she had the Colonels binoculars. It appeared to be plummeting towards the ground from a great height, suddenly it lurched to one side and banked, she could clearly see it glint in the morning sun. Finally it disappeared behind the distant hills. She continued to watch for a while to see if it reappeared, but it didn't. Finally she got up and walked back to the cave, there was little urgency she thought, the Colonel would be out hunting. Unusually, he was still in the cave, working on the fire place, pushing mud into the gaps in the stone work.

"I believe I saw a shuttle landing," she announced, without wasting time on pleasantries.

He stopped filling the cracks of his stonework and turned to look at her. "Are you sure it wasn't a meteorite or you seeing things?" He enquired gently.

"It manoeuvred," she replied calmly.

"Where did it go?" He asked with more interest.

"It went behind the hills to the South," she replied.

"That will be about four days march. Too far for a quick trot over and look," he thought out loud, "We will need at least a weeks provisions though, we won't have that much time to forage."

Collect as many of our nuts and berries as you can fit in the pouches," he commanded, "I'll collect what's left of our equipment. We'll set off after lunch," he finished, all business.

"You accept I saw it?" She asked, surprised that he had so readily taken her word for it without interrogation, she had expected much more argument.

"Of course!" He replied, surprised, "If you say you saw a space ship, who am I to argue, you know better than I what one looks like and you're not prone to seeing things. Besides I'm bored, we need to explore a little further afield. The only problem I can see is that there are only two reasons for people to visit this planet, either they are in difficulty, or they are trying to hide, neither is particularly good news."

  
  


The Tharg, after many attempts at intimidation, finally accepted the Captains suggestion, to allow a party of captives to issue food and water to the workers. She used it as a means to allow the weakest of her crew to rest. They were being forced to work through out the daylight hours, from day break until sunset. How long the day actually was, she couldn't determine, time had lost all meaning after the first days labours. The only thing that was obvious was the simple fact that the Tharg enjoyed inflicting pain. If anybody fell and didn't get up immediately, then they moved in with their cattle prods and kept using them until either their victim stood up or stopped moving at all, So far twelve people had succumbed to their sadism, including two of her crewmen.

Finally after three days, she could take no more and approached what appeared to be the senior Tharg. 

"At the rate your killing us, you will be out of slaves within a couple of weeks," she informed him.

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will work! Resistors will be terminated!" It announced.

They're not resisting!" She shouted at him. 

"They are simply too exhausted to work any longer. If they are not allowed to rest they will die. If we all die, who will build this city you want so badly?" She pleaded, dreading the shock that she expected from a prod in her back.

The Tharg regarded her balefully with it's unblinking eye for what seemed an interminable time. Finally it announced, "We are Thargs, We are your Masters, You will serve us. Resistors will have two hours to recover before termination!"

"Thank you!" She sighed, it was a small concession, but an important one. 

"We are Thargs. We are your Masters. You will serve us. You will work! Resistors will be terminated!" It reminded her.

She turned and walked back to her toiling people, hoping that the Thargs would keep their word.

So far they still had not found a method of exploiting the Thargs weaknesses. The Hirogen had tried stowing people aboard the lift, but they had been found out before it lifted off, one of them had even succeeded in getting past their guards, but had run full tilt into a pack of the Trifids that had started to gather around their camp. The Thargs had turned to watch the spectacle of the Hirogen being ripped to pieces, she suspected that they had enjoyed it.

"I wonder what they are waiting for?" She muttered to Chakotay, indicating towards the huge plants that were rattling outside their encampment.

"The same thing we are," he replied, "A mistake!"

Proof, if it were needed, that the Tharg enjoyed the spectacle of painful death came the next day, when a Caron female couldn't be revived in the allotted two hours. Two Thargs picked her up and swung her towards the Trifids.

  
  


The Colonel set a fast march when he and Seven of Nine started off from their old camp, but found he had to slow down so that she could keep up, her slim body was simply no match for the strong soldiers quick march. To help her he started to sing marching songs, telling her to keep pace with the beat of the song. This she tried and found that her stride lengthened and that the concentration required meant she could ignore the growing stiffness. 

To help her as much as possible, he allowed her to rest for several hours each day at around midday and she attached herself to the generator thankfully. She had tried to keep herself attached to it whilst they were walking, to reduce the need for rest, but found it impossible, the motion was simply too much for her flexible assimilation lines to stay in place. He stood guard over them, both night and day. They were in the middle of the plains and were open to any dangers there may have been. But he was puzzled by the seeming lack of Trifids in the area.

On the third day of their march he saw an object lifting from the ground and had pointed it out to her. "It looks as though you were right," he announced, "But what is it?"

She studied it, then replied, "It is a Stratospheric Escalator, It is used to move heavy equipment to and from a space ship, it is an efficient means of moving heavy objects to and from orbit."

"So they didn't crash then," he suggested. 

They had marched on, until he breasted a rise and had immediately dropped to the floor, pulling her down after him.

"Why did you do that?" She demanded.

"Because we are there," he announced, pulling his binoculars out of their case. Carefully he crawled to the top of the rise and looked out.

"I don't think our new guests are very friendly," he commented, passing the binoculars to Seven of Nine as she crawled up beside him. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but I get the impression of Star Fleet uniforms amongst the crowd?"

She examined the scene carefully. "You are correct, there are also Hirogen, Carons and Darfons amongst them," she quoted from her encyclopaedic Borg knowledge of races, "I do not recognise the machines that are guarding them."

He observed the proceedings carefully. "I think we will rest here for tonight, you are too exhausted for us to do anything more. Tomorrow we will think of something to do."

She nodded, too tired to argue.

  
  


The next morning they sat on the ridge and continued to watch the activities of the captives. Satisfied that things appeared to be proceeding as they had yesterday and they were in no immediate danger the Colonel settled down to wait.

"I know a little about the Hirogen from the ships general log, they consider themselves to be hunters, so they ought to be able to fight," he said, "Tell me what you know about the others?"

"Darfon, species 9854, passive, not technically advanced. The Borg rarely assimilate as they are not a threat," she started, "Caron, species 842, technically advanced, males are physically strong, females have limited telekinetic capabilities."

"What's telekinetic when it's at home?" he asked, genuinely bemused.

She sighed to herself, there were times when he seemed so simple, "They have the ability to move objects by thought alone," she explained as simply as she could.

"We need to find out more about our enemy down there," he commented, drowsily, "Charge your batteries. I think we will hitch a lift on that escalator thing of theirs tonight!" 

He lay back and allowed himself to drift into sleep, for the first time since they had left their camp site, leaving the slightly bemused Seven of Nine to keep watch.

She woke him again, well after midday, by the simple expedient of kissing him then rolling away. She watched, amused, as he dreamily reached out for her, then snapped awake as he found nothing.

"You need to kiss a frog to gain a gallant young Prince," he commented to her wryly, brushing himself down. 

"As I wasn't a frog to start with, I'm rather afraid your stuck with the ugly beast," he added, with a crooked smile.

"You are acceptable to me," she assured him, "The Stratospheric Escalator landed for the second time an hour ago, they will launch it again in approximately five hours. You stated your wish to use it. I have also noticed that the 'enemy' are not capable of leaving the roadway that is being built, I believe that it may be a source of power,"

"Okay, lets get going," he announced, 

"You may wish to put the old camouflage on again," he added, "We may have to crawl all the way!"

"I do not believe it to be necessary," she claimed, "I have identified a route that will bring us unobserved to within 100 Metres of the Stratospheric Escalator."

"Show me!" He demanded.

She pointed out a circuitous route that led them along a slight depression in the plain. 

He nodded impressed, "Well done! You'll be a soldier yet! We'll have to keep low and leave everything here, but they aren't looking outwards too hard, so we can get away with it. Lead on."

Crouching low Seven of Nine led him along the route she had chosen until they came to a point behind the escalators cabin. They rested briefly behind a bush.

"Now we need to get aboard," he commented, "Follow me when I signal." 

He leapt up and sprinted from their hiding place and sprinted up to the back of the cabin, flattening himself against its metallic wall. He peered around the corner, seeing no guard, he signalled to Seven of Nine, who joined him at a dead run. Carefully they crept along the sides of the cabin until they could peer in. Apart from what looked like a wheeled laundry basket, there was nothing inside. Gingerly they crept in and examined the basket, it was empty.

"Hide in there," the Colonel ordered of Seven of Nine, pointing at the basket.

"Where will you be?" She asked in a fierce whisper.

He grinned at her, "Right above you," he pointed to a ladder system that ran up the wall and along the ceiling some 15 feet above. "The basket is an obvious place to hide, but nobody looks at the ceiling," he commented.

Gingerly she took her place, whilst he scaled the ladders. As they settled into position an 'enemy' guard entered the cabin and closed the door, it didn't check for any stowaways. The Escalator lurched into action, almost shaking the Colonel from his position, he held on grimly.

The ride lasted thirty minutes, where upon the guard opened the entry door and wheeled off, leaving them alone. Stiffly the Colonel climbed down from his perch, then lifted Seven of Nine from her basket. Keeping close to the walls they approached the doorway, to be met by a massive pallet load of metallic sheeting as it was being pushed towards the opening by automated handling machinery. Desperately they dashed out of the entrance, before they were trapped behind the material.

They looked around, everything appeared to be automated, there were no signs of their, as yet, unidentified enemy.

"In the absence of any form of map, I vote we go that way," the Colonel suggested, pointing at the only corridor that led from the room, "We've been lucky so far, there doesn't appear to be too many of the bastards about, let's hope it stays that way," he added. He unshipped his rifle, ready for use.

The corridor led to a control room, from which three more corridors led off, one from each wall.

"I shall attempt to interrogate their computers," announced Seven of Nine, moving towards a terminal. Extending her assimilation leads she plugged herself to a data port. The Colonel knelt in the centre of the room and attempted to cover the three exits.

For three long minutes, she remained plugged to the terminal, not moving, eyes closed as she concentrated. Finally she opened her eyes and looked at him. "I have interrogated their computer system, the enemy call themselves Thargs," she announced.

"Does it offer a good place to hide so that you can tell me all about them?" he asked quickly, lest she started to give a long sermon there and then.

"Our ship is aboard," she claimed.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Can we get to it?" he asked urgently, they were riding their luck sat here.

"Yes. Follow me," she announced, setting off down a corridor. "Your weapon will be of little use against them," she continued, "They are also protected from energy weapons such as phasors."

"We will discuss it later, when we are somewhere safe!" He suggested.

They reached the airlock leading into Voyager without seeing another Tharg, but their luck ran out as they entered their own ship. A Tharg was standing in the corridor as they opened the lock. Desperately the Colonel grabbed one of it's arms and started to swing it around, sending it spinning into the wall, cracking the dome open. Immediately he jumped on it, ripping the unfortunate Tharg from it's location. He threw it against another wall then stamped on it until it was a bloody mess on the floor.

"The shit is about to hit the fan big style, I think we had better hurry," he claimed, grabbing Seven of Nines arm and pulling her down the corridors.

"Where are we going?" she panted as they ran down the corridors.

"Cargo Bay 2," he replied grimly, "I need you to work out how to get the ship underway, while I release our crew, but we've got to have a little time to rest and put our heads together properly!"

They entered the bay at a run, then stopped short in surprise, as they found themselves facing the Doctor, he was waving one of the Colonels own weapons at them.

The Colonel was the first to come to his senses. "In case you've never fired a 303 before," he started, "It's only fair to warn you that the recoil will pin you against the far wall and you won't hit anything useful, also it only fires if you put the safety catch off," he continued, as he gently disarmed the shocked Medical Hologram.

"Now, what are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I activated him!" Came a small voice from behind the containers.

Seven of Nine approached the containers carefully. "Naomi Wildman!" She announced, "You escaped capture, How?" She demanded.

"Mommy put me in a Jeffreys Tube, when the creatures came. When they left I went to Sick Bay and activated the Doctor for help," she sobbed, creeping from her hiding place. Running to the Colonel, she wrapped her arms around him, "You will save them, won't you?" She demanded between sobs.

"That's why I'm here, and Miss Nine will look after you," he claimed, gently wiping her tears away with his jacket sleeve then holding her gently.

"How long have you been here on your own?" He asked gently.

"Five days," she sniffed.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked.

"Two days ago, I found a ration pack and had some of that, but it was cold, I couldn't eat much. There's always one of those things patrolling the decks," she replied, referring to the Tharg.

He pulled some nuts and fruit from his pouches, "Here, eat these, We'll find something a little better later," he said.

He stood up and pulled the Doctor aside. "Congratulations Doctor, you have done well. But I have one question, could you have pulled the trigger?"

"I don't know," the Doctor replied drily, "I am programmed to save lives, not to take them, even if they are as unpleasant as the Tharg."

The Colonel nodded. "Look Seven of Nine is pretty shagged, her Borg bits haven't been regenerated properly in four months and I've got to make her do a lot more here before we can escape," he explained, "What can you do to keep her going for another 48 hours? And what do we have to do to make it possible for you to kill Tharg without agonising about it?"

"I don't know, I'll have to think!" The EMH claimed, obviously distressed.

"Think quickly," the Colonel stated quietly, "They will miss the Tharg I killed earlier, then all hell will break out. I have to get back to the planet on the next lift, to stop them killing anymore people and Seven of Nine has to make the ship ready to get us out of here, she can't do that, protect everybody and stay alert all at once."

"I'll check over Seven at once," the Doctor announced.

They turned back towards the other two. Seven of Nine was sitting on the floor, Naomi on her lap. She was shelling nuts and fruit for Naomi to eat. The Colonel allowed himself a smile at the sight, then went in search of a container containing items he had replictated. Finding it he removed several clips of ammunition for his rifle. Automatically he stripped the gun, cleaned it, then reloaded it with the new ammunition, slamming the breach down with a loud clack.

"How is Miss Nine, Doctor?" he asked, noting the doctor had finished his tests.

"Physically Seven's fine, I have administered a stimulant to help keep her awake," he announced, "But she needs time to regenerate, and her optical implants need realigning."

"There is insufficient time for that," she protested, getting up, "I will continue to function."

"This weapon is now loaded with armour piercing rounds," the Colonel explained to the doctor, handing him his automatic rifle. "To use it lay on the floor and hold it like this, cock it like so," he demonstrated the use of the weapon. "Just don't miss, the bullets inside are designed to penetrate two inches of armour, the ships bulkheads will take the aspect of a colander if you do," he finished.

He turned back to Seven of Nine. "What help can you give me?" He asked, "I need to know as much tactical information as possible about the Tharg."

"Their home planet was named Spartax, it was located in the Epsilon Quadrant, which is why the Borg have never assimilated them," she began, "They were a highly developed race, that destroyed itself in war. Those that survived evolved a new form, taking on the brain type appearance we saw today. They are physically very weak, so they developed metal and glass machines to give them mobility. They have also developed a technology capable of absorbing energy. It is this technology that allowed them to create the nebula that the Captain wished to observe, move the remains of their home world to this location and render Voyager and the other vessels in this hold helpless and protects them from energy weapons. Their conveyances must be in the location of a power grid to operate. Their personal weapons consist of an electrical discharge prod, capable of repeated delivery of ultra high voltages, and an ejector that delivers a highly corrosive gas. The gas dissolves the molecular bands between atoms in all carbon based materials and many metals, it is very dense and will settle within seconds. They may have a tactical flaw, their sensors are tuned to movement and heat. Your battle dress reduces your heat signature, if you stand still they may not sense your presence until they are very close," she commented.

"How many of the bastards are there?" He asked.

"There are 300 units active," she answered, "162 are on the planet, 103 are currently deployed dismantling their vessel for materials. There are also another 2497 in stasis."

"As long as they stay that way, I'll not complain. What is powering them on the planet?" He asked.

"Power on the planet is supplied by a generator system located on a shuttle, it is not protected," she answered.

"Miss Nine, you are a genius! Thank you," he replied enthusiastically. "Is there some way we can gain control of their ship from here?"

"I believe I can control it from the Bridge," she claimed.

"Okay, I'll escort you to the Bridge, then I'll have to love you and leave you. But first I need to pick up some more toys," he announced.

He led them to the bridge. "When I leave, secure the doors and disable the lift between floors," he advised, "That will make it more difficult for them to come and get you. If they wake up big style then get the ship out of here. If I have any stragglers, I'll take them to our valley, you can pick us up or not as you wish," he continued. "If you can get control of it, launch the escalator in 40 minutes from now, bring it back up six hours after landing, or we manage to get a message through," he finished as he entered the Turbo Lift. 

They watched him go, then Seven turned to a science terminal. "Doctor, I believe you may take position behind the pilots console and gain sufficient support for your weapon," she intoned, taking charge, "Crewman Wildman you will assist me."

"Did you enjoy your stay on the planet? Weren't you scared?" The girl asked, as she worked the terminal under Seven of Nines instruction.

"You will not attempt to engage me in irrelevant conversation," Seven of Nine instructed, "Polarise the communications beam as I modulate the frequencies," she ordered.

"Mommy said you stayed behind deliberately to be with the Colonel, did you?" Naomi Wildman persisted, adjusting the beam as ordered.

Realising the girl was not going to be deflected, Seven of Nine turned to her. "Yes, I deliberately remained with the Colonel, I believed he required assistance. I was not scared and the stay was," she paused, "Instructive," she answered reflectively.

"Did the Colonel need assistance?" Naomi asked, concern showing on her face.

"I believe he benefited from my presence," Seven of Nine confirmed carefully, "This questioning will cease, we must find the correct frequency to activate the Statospheric Elevator or the Colonel will not be able to return to the planet." 

Finally isolating a link to the Tharg ship, Seven of Nine thankfully activated the escalator, then sank gratefully into a chair. "We have forty minutes before we can attempt to gain access to the rest of the ships systems," she announced.

  
  


Their guards investigated the hopper suspiciously when it arrived unexpectedly, but could not identify a problem, It was fully laden and there was no unusual movement aboard. Finally they returned to their normal guard duties, they did not notice a dark figure crawl slowly onto the roof of the cabin as soon as the doors opened.

The Colonel watched them depart gratefully, then slipped down the back of the hopper. He had found the hopper within twenty minutes of leaving Voyager, again without seeing another Tharg, then he had had to wait another nervous thirty minutes before it lurched into action. As it had landed he swung himself onto the overhead ladder as he had done on the way up and had crawled out as the Tharg guards investigated the load.

Carrying a leather bag he sprinted towards the shuttle that was less than 100 yards from the hoppers landing site, then attempted to find a way in. He found the doors locked tight and could divine no mechanism to open it. He dropped the bag by the door. 

"Bugger, I'm going to need help to get in," he thought. 

He looked towards the camp, the Tharg were guarding the prisoners, they didn't appear to be taking any notice of anything outside their cordon. He selected one that was near the edge of the roadway and worked his way up behind it. Checking his pockets and found a nut he had left from their march, rising to his knees behind the Tharg guard he tossed it onto the road, it clattered slightly, enough for the guard to turn momentarily towards it, as he had suspected. He dashed across the road and dived to the ground, laying motionless, he hoped that Seven of Nine was right about their sensory equipment. He counted to thirty then risked a glance behind, the guard had resumed its station. Slowly and carefully he started to crawl further into the compound. Meeting the first of the recumbent figures he got to his feet again and started to make his way to the part of the compound that he had noticed seemed to contain the Star Fleet crew.

  
  


The meeting between the captives was getting to be a chore, in addition it had started to rain steadily and there was no cover for the captives, the compound was rapidly becoming a mire. They still had little good news to share, except that only one Darfon had been killed that day.

They noted the crash landing of the hopper with alarm. 

"There not going to make us work through the night!" Janeway exclaimed.

"If they do we will fight," announced Scoron, "We will not remain slaves."

Chakotay looked towards the escalator, "I don't think they were intending to," he commented. "It looks as though its arrival has surprised our guards as well," he pointed out, "Perhaps they want an early start tomorrow!"

"If we carry on like this we would be better attacking them and getting it over with," growled Scoron, savagly.

"I am inclined to agree," Carys admitted, "Between us we have lost thirty crew members and we are still no nearer finding a means to escape. Soon we will all be too tired to resist."

"If you get past the Tharg, you will still have to contend with the plants," pointed out Papilon.

"But we will die free!"

"It hurts to say it, because I believe where there is life there is hope, but I am at the point of having to agree," admitted the Captain desperately, "But how do we do it in a way that it allows us some chance of escaping. We need a big diversion."

"It looks as though it will rain through tonight," pointed out Boros, "That may reduce the effectiveness of the Tharg sensors, it may even reduce the abilities of the plants, I've observed they are not active at night ."

"Perhaps I may be of assistance, Ma'am," a new voice sounded from out of the gloom.

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen," announced the Colonel, sitting down with the group.

Captain Janeway looked at the tall soldier, a smile of relief forming on her face. "Good evening, Colonel," she replied levelly.

She turned back to the meeting, "I think our chances may just have improved," she claimed, "This man is Lieutenant Colonel Samuels. He is the man that has been living on this planet for some time. Colonel may I introduce our friends, Scoron of the Hirogen, Carys and Boros of the Carons and Papilon of the Darfons."

The Colonel nodded an acknowledgement to the gathering. They observed the tall green clad soldier with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Both he and his clothing were dirty and torn, camouflage paint had been smeared on his face, but his eyes burned in the compound lights..

"Why should a single human be anymore capable of getting us out safely than we can? He's not even armed," demanded Scoron.

"How many have you killed?" He sneered at the Colonel.

The Colonel replied mildly, "If you mean today, just the one. As for armament, I am well enough armed to cope with the Tharg," he announced, producing a baseball bat, "As for your survival, that will depend upon how you react."

"Where is Seven?" Asked the Captain, "Is she safe?"

"Miss Nine is currently upstairs negotiating with the Tharg computers to let us go," he replied, "When I left her she was quite safe, though I'm not too sure for how long."

"As you are here, I assume you have some form of plan?" Asked the Carys quietly.

"Yes Ma'am," he confirmed, "If all goes well, the lift will take off in a little under five hours, the plan involves being on it when it does."

"And how do you propose to achieve that?" Asked Scoron.

"There I will need a little technical help, I'm afraid. We have to persuade the Tharg that we are of limited interest first." he admitted. 

"So you want us to attack them and die just so that your friends can escape!" Cried Scoron.

The Colonel glared at him, "If that is what turns you on, but I had the general idea of shifting everybody," he replied levelly.

He turned to Carys, "Miss Nine tells me that you have an ability to move things by thought. Could you open the shuttle doors for me? I couldn't find an external lock."

"Telekinysis you mean, I have a couple of crew members that still have that ability," she confirmed, "What has the shuttle to do with the plan?"

"Their power generator is there, I intend to stop it working. Also if we do get in the lift they will undoubtedly try to follow us with the shuttle, they can't if it doesn't work," he answered.

"Very well I shall provide you with somebody who can operate the locks," she replied, she was starting to like this decisive human, "How do you propose to get her to the shuttle?"

"I will need a diversion, that is where the Hirogen and Voyager can help. I need a bit of a scuffle near our crossing point, nothing serious but enough to hold the interest of the guards." 

He turned to Scoron, "I don't particularly want the Tharg involved, or they will get carried away and start killing everything involved, it will unnecessarily complicate things, you'll have plenty of opportunity to kill them later," he stated plainly.

"When do we start?" Asked the Captain.

"I think as soon as you and Mister Scoron can come to an agreement about a little fisticuffs," he suggested, "Say twenty minutes by the road over there," he pointed to an area on the opposite side of the compound to the shuttle.

"Now Ma'am, if you would be so kind as to introduce me to the lady who can operate the doors for me?" He asked the Caron commander.

To the meeting in general he announced, "The Tharg can detect movement and body heat, but their vision is not so hot. Get your people as dirty as possible, and if they are in immediate danger tell them to lay on the floor absolutely still, if they are lucky they will be missed."

Carys led him away.

"Your Colonel assumes a lot when he makes his orders sound like suggestions," Papilon mused as he watched him leave.

"We could have done what he is suggesting," claimed Scoron hotly.

"Indeed we could," agreed Tuvok calmly, "But we would have had little idea of what we would do when we got past the Tharg. The Colonel has access to facts that were not apparent to us and a plan that extends beyond immediate escape. He also intends to reduce the casualties to a minimum, you could not make those claims."

"What would you like to argue about?" the Captain asked Scoron sweetly, "There is a huge range of topics we don't agree on."

He grunted and walked away.

"Chakotay find a couple of volunteers to create the diversion. The rest of you prepare everybody for an escape attempt," she ordered.

  
  


Aboard Voyager, Seven of Nine was busy with the computer terminals again. She had achieved a secure link to the Tharg vessels central computer and was now investigating the huge ships power systems, trying to find a way of preventing it from deploying its energy sapping rays.

"There is a problem," she announced to the others, "The Thargs have initiated the protocols to reactivate there people. We have approximately five hours before they are fully recovered."

"Can we advise the Colonel?" exclaimed the Doctor.

"That is not possible, without deactivating the Tharg ship. If I do that the crew on the surface will not be able to return, and the Tharg aboard will know we are here," she explained.

"I have also been unable to gain the access required to deactivate their force fields. I shall have to manually remove them from a terminal on their vessel," she continued.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Exclaimed Naomi.

"Yes, but it is necessary to release the ships. I cannot carry out the operation until nearer the time for the Escalator to return or we will be discovered."

"You might be trapped here!" gasped Naomi, putting her arms protectively around the bemused ex-Borg.

"Naomi Wildman, I have learned from the Colonel is that personal risk is of no consequence when considering the risks to ones friends, there is nobody else capable of carrying out the task, therefore I shall have to do it," She told the girl gently. "When the crew is aboard and I have successfully deactivated the force fields you will activate the programme named 'Departure', it will safely navigate Voyager from inside the Tharg vessel and engage the warp drive. My decision is final," she claimed.

An alarm sounded.

"Two Thargs have boarded the ship," she commented, "We may have to vacate the ship to avoid them."

  
  


The Colonel inspected the tall Caron that was to enable him to get aboard the shuttle. She was about fifty in earth years, her face and the long tendrils from her head extending to her waist showed signs of lining from long years, her blue skin was mottled with darker patches.

"Your name please, Ma'am?" He asked. 

"My name is Zaphar," she announced, the voice was gentle and assured, it made the name sound like the wash of the sea on a beach.

He bowed to her, "Colonel Samuels, at your service," he announced. 

It seemed to amuse the Caron, her face broke into a a smile. 

"Your customs seem strange to us Colonel," pointed out Carys, hiding her own amusement, "They are not displayed by the rest of your crew and it is we that are providing the service to you," she challenged.

"My service will be to get you and all the rest of the people here back to their ships," he advised gently, "As for my customs, they were disappearing when I left my own time, but I see no reason to let them drop because of that." 

"Come," he announced to Zaphar, "We need to be close to the road before Captain Janeway and the Hirogen start their little demonstration, if we are to get out without being seen. I'm afraid it will be quite muddy," He apologised.

He led her to the last encampment before the road, then had her lay in the mud beside him and demonstrated to her how she needed to crawl to allow them to get closer. They stopped about ten feet from the road and waited.

Two minutes later the sound of an argument could be heard from ten yards further along the road. The Colonel recognised the sound of Tuvok's voice above the others. "Be ready to go," he whispered to his partner, "The Tharg are starting to move for a closer look."

The sounds intensified until it was evident a major scuffle was occurring. The Tharg nearest them turned and started to move towards the commotion. The Colonel grabbed Zaphar, forcing her up, "Now," he whispered fiercely, "Don't look back and don't go more than fifty paces beyond the road."

She staggered forward slipping as she mounted the road and fell . The noise attracted the attention of the guard that they were facing, it turned. "Resistors will be terminated," it screamed at them, bringing the gas ejecting arm up to bare. The Colonel raced towards it, and brought the bat he was carrying down with an ear splitting crash on the dome. The glass around the brain creature shattered and vanished as did the brain itself from the force of the impact. He turned again, in time to see another Tharg rolling down the road towards them. Two small furry creatures rose from out of the mud and bounded rapidly towards the machine, the first was caught in a gas cloud, but the second hit it at full gallop, bundling both of them off the road, it shrieked in pain as it's body hit the electrically charged prod. He shook his head in wonder at the sight, then turned again to his fallen companion.

"It is most definitely time to leave," he announced, picking her up, then throwing her upon his shoulder. In the light from the lamps erected around the camp he noticed that the captives had retreated to the centre of the compound, out of reach of their captors fearsome gas jets, safe for a few minutes.

He set her down again, "Are you hurt at all?" he asked urgently.

"I am not seriously hurt, I slipped," she announced, "I am sorry I have damaged your plan."

"Not seriously I hope," he informed her, "But I'm afraid we will have to run from here. Sooner or later those bastards will decide either to start using grenades to gas our people, or even simply open a gap for the Trifids to enter. Then everybody dies," he said urgently.

They staggered on, he supporting the Caron woman whenever she stumbled, finally arriving at the place where he had left his explosives. They slumped by the vessel to catch their breath.

He opened the bag, "I have here about twenty pounds of Plastic Explosive. It's not as effective as the modern stuff people use nowadays, but it can be set off with a simple chemical detonator," he informed her. "I think there could be another score or so Tharg on the shuttle, so I might be quite busy and you will have to lay the explosives. To use it take a lump and mould it around what ever needs to be damaged, then take a detonator," he produced some pencil like objects from his pocket, "and jam it into the explosive and push the plunger in, it will explode in about five minutes," he instructed her. "Now can you do your magic on the door?"

She nodded and screwed up her eyes in concentration. It was broken as the door was opened and a Tharg rolled out, it was carrying a large tube. Thinking it to be a new weapon of some nature, the Colonel leapt at it, pushing it off the ramp down from the shuttle. It struggled weakly as the power drained from its systems.

"Follow me," he hissed, charging into the ship. Another Tharg was just inside the entrance as the Colonel charged in. He took a back hand swing at it as he bundled past, crazing the glass of the dome, the second blow skittled the dome and the creature to the floor, where he kicked it viciously against the wall. Grabbing Zaphars hand he pulled her into the ship and down the passage way. As they ran into the vessel another Tharg appeared in front of them, to be met by the flying Colonels boot, sending it spinning into the wall, before it could recover it was struck by the whirling bat.

They slowed as they came to a door, they could hear the quiet hum of machinery inside. 

"This seems like a good place to start," he suggested panting, "Can you open it?" he asked, calming himself down.

She nodded and again concentrated on the door and its latch. The door silently slid open and the Colonel darted inside, a quick check suggested that they had the right place and the room was clear of Tharg. He turned and pulled the Caron inside, "Now close it again," he commanded, "Then we may have a little peace to do what we have to do."

As they worked they heard several Tharg pass the door screaming at each other, but none entered. Finally they had laid their explosives at what seemed like good strategic points and they met at the door.

"On the way out we stop for nothing," he warned her, "If one of us stumbles, the other keeps going, got it!"

She nodded dumbly, she realised she had never experienced anything like the aggression that the human had so far exhibited.

"Open the door," he demanded.

She did so and he peered out, there was nothing in the corridor. "Run!" he shouted at her as he pulled her out. Of the two he was by far the fleeter of foot, she stumbled to the floor again just before he entered the entrance lobby, she closed her eyes accepting the fact she would die on the ship. He stopped at the end and looked back, seeing her on the floor he leapt back and threw her up onto his shoulder again and ran once again for the door. A Tharg was guarding the entrance doorway. Again the Colonel didn't stop, he simply charged into the thing, it careened down the slope finally falling off to lay beside the unit that had been dumped there earlier. Not stopping to see the effect on the Tharg, the Colonel continued to charge down the slope. A massive explosion bloomed behind him, the blast throwing him to the roadway. By reflex he let the Caron woman go as he was thrown and rolled to a stop, immediately springing up bat at the ready to pulverise anything in reach. He felt the roadway beneath his feet crackle, Zaphar screamed as a shock hit her. Desperately he grabbed her again and threw her off the road, leaping after her as a massive electrical discharge lifted the road around them.

Dazed he finally sat up and looked around them, all the Tharg he could see appeared to be standing stationary their arms drooping. Carefully he stood and approached one of them, it didn't move, even when he tapped the glass. Groggily Zaphar joined him.

"Is it dead? Did we suceed?" She asked.

"The lights are out, it's not moving, I think we may have succeeded rather better than expected," he confirmed. 

"Can you get to the Escalator yourself?," he inquired, "I need to make sure everybody else is moving."

"Yes," she stammered. "Why did you stop for me when I fell, you said stop for nothing?"

"I've already lost one more than I intended, I will not lose more if it is in anyway avoidable," he claimed, "Now go, use the roadway and you won't get lost."

He set off down the track towards the compound at a double run. Reaching the edge of the compound, he took a deep breath and yelled with his best parade ground voice, "What the hell do you lot think your waiting for! Get to the lift at the double, before those bloody plants wake up!"

It seemed to have the desired effect, people started to some towards him.

"Pick up everybody that's still alive," he ordered of the first to reach him, "There's plenty of time and everybody's leaving."

He trotted around the track to the place where the two Darfon had leapt at the Tharg and knelt by the body of the one that had succeeded in pushing it off the road. It was panting in laboured breaths.

"Hold on son, your coming with me," he announced, allowing himself to stroke the matted hair of the creature, it felt just like patting an injured dog. 

He found a puncture wound in its side, where it had landed against one of the Thargs metal arms and immediately placed a handkerchief over the wound, pressing hard.

"Paris!" he yelled into the night.

  
  


The captives had automatically stood and grouped together for protection in the centre of the compound as soon as it was evident things weren't going entirely to plan. The Thargs had trundled in as close as they could and turned their gas jets on them, but the persistent rain prevented the gas reaching as far as the group.

For fifty minutes they stood and shivered in the rain, waiting to see what the Tharg would do, now that their gas weapons had proved useless.

"Your Colonels plan is going wrong, Captain," announced Scoron as he elbowed his way through the throng, towards Captain Janeway, "We should have attacked en-mass, now we have to wait for them to decide how to kill us!"

"He got away and only two people have been hurt, give him time," replied the Captain evenly, silently praying that the Colonel was still working to plan.

As if in answer they heard an explosion in the direction of the Tharg shuttle, then watched in amazement as the roadway around them seemed to lift, sparks flashing against the Tharg chariots. Shortly after they heard a voice crying at them to get a move on.

"Does that answer your doubts!" Captain Janeway demanded of the stern Hirogen.

"He is slow!" He protested, "We could have reached the shuttle much faster," he turned and fled into the crowd, yelling to his people, sparing his embarrassment.

"Chakotay, get everybody moving. Can anybody see the Colonel?" She called.

"There he is," cried a crewman with better night vision than most, "He is running around the compound, I think he may be trying to get to the Darfon that was hurt."

"Tom, come with me," The Captain ordered, "If that Darfon is still alive, the Colonel will need you."

Pushing their way through the crowd they made their way to where they expected the Colonel to be. Their hunch they found was right. Tom Paris immediately knelt by the creature, examining then treating it with his medical kit.

"He's pretty beat up, I don't know how well the patch will hold," he announced.

"Thank you Lieutenant. When we return to the ship the Doctor can finish the job. Let's get him to the escalator thing before the Trifids arrive. I think they've woken up," the Colonel announced, indicating in the general direction of the rattling coming from the serried ranks of malevolent plants. Gently he picked the Darfon up and started to walk carefully towards the escalator.

"What do we do now?" He was bombarded by the question as he entered the cabin of the escalator.

"We wait," he announced loudly, "Miss Nine is due to launch this thing in about another forty minutes, until then the only potential problem we have is the possibility that the Trifids may try and investigate." He laid the Darfon he was carrying on the floor and Tom Paris immediately settled next to it to attempt better treatment.

The Colonels communicator crackled into life, "Seven of Nine to the Colonel," It hissed, "I detected an energy surge from the shuttle, was that your doing?"

"You know how I like gestures, Miss Nine. Please, report your status?" He replied cheerfully.

"All ships are ready to depart, there are four Tharg aboard Voyager, the doctor and Naomi Wildman are on the Darfon freighter, they have not been discovered, I have activated the escalator mechanisim," she answered evenly.

"And where are you?" He asked carefully.

"I am in the escalator control room," she announced, "I required direct access to the Tharg computers to deactivate the force fields."

He nodded grimly to himself as the escalator lurched into life. "Do what you need to do and stay safe," he called softly.

Captain Janeway regarded the thread bare and worn Colonel critically. "She's turning into another version of you in her attitudes," she commented drily, "Nothing matters except the safety of those she chooses to protect. I'm not sure I approve."

The Colonel looked sadly up at her, "I've not changed her Captain," he claimed bitterly, the pain clearly showing on his face, "Thanks to the Borg she's always had that attitude and always will. Maybe I've redirected it a little, but that's all I can do, but it's not right, she deserves better! If she's learnt anything from me, I hope it's how to survive the repercussions!"

"What happens now?" asked Carys, approaching the Captain and Colonel.

"In a little over twenty minutes the escalator will meet the Tharg ship, there may or may not be Tharg to meet us and Miss Nine may or may not be a pile of ashes at the end of the corridor," the Colonel announced heavily, smashing his fist into the wall of the cabin in frustration.

"The Colonel feels strongly for this Miss Nine, Captain. Why?" she commented quietly.

"He's in love with her," explained the Captain sagely, "It puts her one above the rest of us in his desire to protect. If she is safe when we get there, he'll be as cool and efficient as he was on the planet. If not then the only thing I know is we will be safe," she paused, then added, "Provided we stay out of his way."

  
  


Seven of Nine crouched in the corner of the control room nervously, her Borg assimilation lines attached to the computers data port, the Colonels rifle resting on her knees. 

When she had realised that the Tharg were going to commit a thorough search of the vessel, she had beamed Naomi, the doctor and herself to the Darfon freighter for safety, then had left them to take up her position in the control room. The doctor had given her the Colonels rifle, though she was still not sure why she had accepted it. She knew she could use it, he had taught her during their stay on the planet. But she wondered if she could use it in anger. Perhaps it was the comfort it brought, not to be entirely defenceless.

The ships computer had sensed the power surge on the planet, and had informed her in its turn. Attempting communication with the Colonel was probably an error on her part. But they needed to know the status of their vessels, she thought, it had nothing to do with the desire to ensure the Colonel was still alive and well.

The computer informed her that the escalalator had docked, so she prepared to commit her last act on the Tharg ship, to release the force fields that rendered the captured ships helpless. She tensed as a column of twenty Tharg guards appeared from one of the corridors. Keeping as still as possible, relying on her lack of movement to protect her, she watched them roll into the corridor leading towards the escalators.

Suddenly she realised that the people on the escalator would be caught by the guards, not even the Colonel would be able to take on that many in one go, especially if they were ready. She leapt to her feet and hitting her communicator, she announced, "There are Tharg approaching the Escalator!"

"Roger," a calm voice replied.

She ran after the Tharg, dropping to the ground silently as she came up behind them. Cocking the weapon as she had learnt under his tutelage, she brought it to her shoulder ready. They were waiting for the doors to open, as they started she opened fire. She watched in detached fascination as the first Tharg she hit exploded into fragments as it was hit by the armour piercing rounds. The report of the shots had the desired effect, the Tharg spun around, looking for the new threat. It was a mistake on their part, as with a scream the ex-captives on the escalator charged into them, the Colonel leading the way, the base ball bat swinging freely.

"Resistors will be terminated!" screamed a voice behind her. Desperately she rolled over, bringing the gun up and firing blindly at the sound. The Tharg had been no more than a few metres behind her, it exploded, a second reaching for her also exploded in a shower of glass, then the weapon jammed as a third drove its probe into her leg. She screamed as the high voltage drove a surge of pain up her leg.

The Colonel heard her scream, and answered with a scream of rage of his own, that shook the occupants of the corridor. He charged through the last of the Tharg that had faced the doors and leapt into the crowd that were gathering around the stricken Seven of Nine. The first massive swing of the club smashed through the globes of the two nearest Tharg. He reversed his swing and seemingly without effort brought it back to skittle a third. A fourth managed to deploy its electric prod, but it seemed to have the effect of enraging the Colonel further, as he kicked it away to smash into the wall. The fifth Tharg received an overhead blow of such proportions that that the metal club snapped. It didn't stop him, he continued his charge into the remaining Tharg. He grabbed two by their metallic arms and smashed them together, letting go of one he started to spin the other, as though throwing a hammer in a sports event, sending it careening into the three remaining guards, one fell smashing itself against the wall. The Colonel charged on, diving below the flaying arms of a unit, he grabbed it by the bottom and lifted it clear above him and with a final scream, smashed it down on top of the last guard. 

He stopped, the red mist that had enveloped his mind, lifting as quickly as they had fallen, and turned back. The silence was deafening, The ex-captives were watching him in awe, a mixture of shock and horror showing on their faces. They had dealt with the majority of the initial batch of Tharg, but several of their number were laying dead or injured among them.

"Lieutenant Paris!" He croaked.

"Here Colonel," Tom Paris announced, he had been treating a fallen Hirogen.

"Get Miss Nine on her feet again," he commanded, "She has a final duty to do, otherwise I'll have to deactivate this ship the hard way."

He crouched beside her, holding her hand tenderly. She groaned.

"You silly bitch," he chided her softly, "You could have got yourself killed, then what would I do?"

"You would have become violent," she understated, a smile forming on her face, despite the pain.

Tom Paris ran his last medi-kit regenerator over her leg and burnt tissues. "You'll be a bit numb for a while, and B'Elanna will have to do some serious repairs to your implants, but otherwise you'll be fine," he announced, "The leather you're wearing seems to have given protection from the worst of the shock," he added.

He turned to the Colonel, "I've nothing left to treat you Sir!" He announced.

"Have I been hurt?" The Colonel, sounding genuinely surprised. 

He examined the remains of his uniform, parts of it were still smoking where the electric prods had made contact.

"I suppose, I must have been," he claimed, then shrugged.

"Come on Miss Nine, lets release those force fields then these good people can go home," he said quietly, gently picking her up.

"Well what are you waiting for," he shouted at the still stunned bystanders, "Lets get out of here before the rest of those bastards wake up!"

"I see what you mean!" Carys commented wryly, to the Captain as they walked up the corridor, "Everybody's quite safe provided he doesn't get upset. Look at those fools," she pointed to the Hirogen, who appeared to be gathering souvenirs of their skirmish, "You'd think they had fought the battle on their own."

  
  


The Colonel carried Seven of Nine back to the computer terminal she had used before and crouched before it, supporting her weight on his lap. For the last time she plugged herself in.

"The force fields are down," announced Seven of Nine, "I have encrypted the controls, the Tharg will take a little time to regain control of them," she continued, then slumped back into the strong arms of the Colonel.

"Thank you, Miss Nine. I've told you before your a genius haven't I?" The Colonel asked, tenderly kissing her forehead. "Now I must put you in the clutches of the Doctor for a while to put things right," he soothed her, as he carried her aboard Voyager.

  
  


"Beam the Doctor and Naomi back!" ordered Captain Janeway of Ensign Kim, as she and the rest of the crew thundered onto Voyager, "Lieutenant Caery as soon as Seven of Nine and the Colonel get in close the doors, and inform me, the sooner we leave the better."

"What do we do about the Tharg on the ship?" Asked Chakotay, reminding her that there was still a problem.

"We'll deal with them, when we find them," she announced.

She rounded a corner, the rest of her bridge crew right behind her and came face to face with the four Tharg, she stopped dead. They appeared to be trying to get the Turbo Lift open. 

"Get them!" she screamed and charged at them. 

It was a foolish move, sponsored by frustration. The Tharg stood their ground bringing their prods into play. The Captain and Kim succumbed almost immediately to the prods, but two Tharg also fell to the combined efforts of Chakotay and Tuvok crashing them together, the other two stubbornly resisted and overcame their attack, leaving the bridge crew unconcious on the deck. 

The remaining Tharg advanced in the direction of the airlock, arriving as the Colonel stumbled in. He took one look at them advancing Tharg and gently lowered Seven of Nine to the ground.

"Please take Miss Nine to the sickbay Lieutenant," he ordered, "It seems I still have a small duty to perform."

"That was the direction the Captain took," whispered Lieutenant Caery urgently.

The Colonel nodded, crouching down. "When you have deposited Miss Nine, make for the Bridge, I will need your assistance."

Seven of Nine grabbed his arm as Caery started to pull her away, "There is a computer programme, 'Departure' you must activate it on the Bridge," she whispered tiredly, "It will help you activate the ship." She passed out

Again he nodded as he waited for the Tharg. When they got to within ten feet he leapt. Diving between the two, he rolled and grabbed the lower edges of the machines and lifted with all his strength. The two Tharg toppled forwards, dislodging the creatures inside as the domes broke open. He watched them writhe on the floor, without emotion, until they stopped, then followed the corridor to the Turbo Lift.

He found the Captain and her crew outside the lift doors. "Medical Emergency, Lift Two," he called on the communicator, and bent to check his fallen friends. He was relieved to find them still breathing.

"The Turbo Lifts are locked," groaned Tuvok, as he knelt over him.

"I'll deal with it," the Colonel replied quietly.

He turned and made his way for the Jeffreys tube and started the long ascent to the Bridge.

As he fell out of the Bridge access port, he announced, "Computer activate program 'Departure'," then lay exhausted on the deck.

"Acknowledged," announced the impassive computer voice. 

He felt the ship shudder as it moved off from the docking ports and crawled into the pilots seat. He gazed at the screen and the console in numb fascination as lights winked on and off. Deciding that the computer had a better idea of what it was doing than he did, he let it get on with it and simply watched as Voyager silently glided out of the Tharg hold then engage warp drive.

  
  


Captain Janeway, still groggy from her treatment on the planet, lead the relief crew to the Bridge and found him still hunched over the pilots console six hours later. They were amused as he sprang stiffly to attention as they entered.

"I'm sorry Ma'am, I've exceeded my authority," he announced, swaying slightly as he stood.

"How so?" she asked gently.

"I have stepped on the Bridge without authority or request, similarly I have usurped your authority by taking control of the vessel without authority," he replied stiffly, indicating the pilots console.

She looked at the tall soldier incredulously, his uniform was in tatters, tiredness and strain clearly showing on his face, but he was still erect and proud, arguing about the regulations he had broken.

"Under the circumstances, I think you carried out the correct actions," she assured him gently. "I see that we still have company," she continued, indicating the Caron and Darfon vessels, keeping station with them.

"I asked them to, until I could hand the ship back to you Ma'am," he confessed, "In case I pointed her in the wrong direction. I would be grateful if you would take her back. Please?"

She laughed, the last statements seemed so incongruous, considering all that he had done over the last few months. She stopped as he swayed dangerously.

"When was the last time you slept or had your wounds treated?" She asked urgently.

"Can't remember Ma'am," he admitted stoutly.

"Go to sickbay and get them sorted then go and rest!" She exclaimed. "That is an order," she thundered, as he hesitated and grimaced at the thought of seeing the Doctor.

"Ma'am," he acknowledged and stumbled towards the lift.

She slumped into her chair moaning softly, "He's impossible," she confided to Chakotay, as he sat in his chair. "Almost single-handedly he's led a revolt, rescued people from slavery, destroyed a very dangerous enemy, piloted the ship to safety and now wants me to arrest him for exceeding his authority."

Chakotay had been thinking about the Colonels comments, "I think it's self defence, he does what he believes is necessary without thinking. When it is all over he wonders whether what he did was right but can't make the decision."

"Perhaps you're right," she agreed, "But it is difficult to accept, he is so cool and certain at all other times." Then louder she called, "Tuvok, thank our friends for taking care of us and that we are now in control of events."

"I have done so, Captain," he advised, "However they wish to speak with you."

She sighed, "Put them on."

"What can I do for you?" she asked Carys and Papilon as their images showed on the screen.

"Captain," announced Carys, "We have discussed our recent experiences together and have decided that we would like to thank your Colonel. We believe we would not have survived if the situation had been left in the hands of the Hirogen."

"He refused," interrupted Papilon, excitedly, "He claimed he was performing his duty."

"That is not unusual for the Colonel, he does not accept thanks easily," she answered honestly, "What of it?"

Carys nodded, accepting the comment, "I understand. But perhaps we can offer something else of benefit. We have examined the course back to your quadrant and we posses accurate star charts for the next six thousand light years of your journey, will you accept those on his behalf?"

"And we can supply you with food and materials to help you on your way," yipped Papilon, almost bouncing with excitement.

The Captain was taken back by the generosity of the offer, "I believe the Colonel might be persuaded. For myself and the rest of the crew I would thank you for your gift."

Again Carys nodded, "It is agreed then, let it be a sign of good faith between our people. We will arrange for transmission." The screen went blank.

"Chakotay, liaise with our friends over what they decide to give us. I have a house call to make," she demanded and turned for the lift.

  
  


The Doctor was actually happy to see the Colonel, when he arrived.

"For once you've done the right thing and not got yourself seriously hurt," he announced glibly. "Just as well, Seven will need to regenerate for a week, before she can start pumping nano-probes into you again," he added.

"I think, I prefer you bitchy and temperamental," the Colonel grumbled. 

"Could you have pulled the trigger of that rifle?" he asked, curious.

The question removed the smile from the Doctors face. "I don't think I could," he answered slowly, "It would have been too difficult to override my ethical routines."

"Deliberately killing your first intelligent life is very difficult," the Colonel admitted, "It took me days to get over it. Lets come to a deal. I'll look after the crews physical safety, you look after their health and we'll both work at keeping Miss Nine content and working," he suggested, a smile forming on his face.

He slid off the couch and marched out of the Sick Bay and turned towards the lower decks and Cargo Bay 2. 

He entered and found Seven of Nine standing in her alcove, asleep. He dragged up a cargo container next to her and slumped down on it.

It was where the Captain tracked him to fifty minutes later. He stood to attention as she approached, she could have sworn he was asleep when the door opened.

"I have a problem," she announced, carefully.

"Ma'am?" He asked, equally carefully.

"I have a crewman, who refuses to accept a direct order from the commanding officer, what should I do?" she asked, a trace of a smile playing on her lips.

"I believe the Regulations are quite clear on the matter Ma'am," he announced, "The course is summary Courts Martial, with the possible penalties ranging from loss of rank, extended jail sentences and execution, depending upon the perceived danger caused by the refusal."

"Which should I use on you?" She demanded quietly, "I was quite specific, you should have yourself treated in sickbay, then go and rest."

"I am carrying out your orders, Ma'am!" He protested, "All of them!"

She looked at him quizzically. "Go on?" She prompted.

"I went to sickbay and was treated as ordered. I am resting as ordered, and I am continuing to look after Miss Nine as ordered," he announced stiffly. "The latter I have failed to carry out properly twice, I do not intend to fail again!" He admitted sadly.

"She is in no danger here and she won't be awake for a week, what state will you be in in a week Colonel!" The Captain demanded. 

"I could wake Seven up and get her opinions on how well you are following my orders?" She offered casually.

"That will not be necessary, Ma'am. She needs to rest properly," He protested in alarm, "I'll come quietly."

"Good!" She announced, "I'll set the computer to remind you in good time to be here when Seven wakes, you will go and sleep. You will also report to my quarters at 19:00 tomorrow for debriefing over dinner, bring a bottle," she commanded.

In no state to argue strongly he left for his quarters. The Captain smiled, set the computer alarm and returned to the bridge.

  
  


He arrived at her door promptly at 19:00 as ordered and chimed the door bell.

"Good evening Ma'am," he announced, snapping to attention and saluting, as he entered.

"There is no need for formality Colonel, this is a friendly and informal dinner," she advised gently, leading him into her rooms, "Here I am Kathryn. You brought your 'nerve tonic', good!" She observed and relieved him of the two bottles of Metheglin he had brought.

"Ma'am!" He replied crisply, he hadn't relaxed.

She sighed, defeated, "Sit down, and relax, please," she almost pleaded with him, "And call me Ma'am or Captain again and I'll bring Tuvok in to throw you in the Brig."

"Ma.." he started, then corrected himself, "Yes Miss Janeway," doing as she bid.

"It's better, I suppose," she admitted, "Do you call Seven of Nine anything other than Miss Nine?" she asked.

"Sometimes, Miss," he answered, still formal.

"I'm not in your league as a chef, I hope strogonov is acceptable," she called, from the replicator at the back of her quarters.

"Perfectly, Miss," he answered.

Together they ate their meal, she making sure he was well plied with drink.

"I remember the first meal we had in your quarters, chicken soup and tea," she commented, remembering, "You were an unknown entity and we were scared of you and what you might be, as you were of us. Only Seven was really prepared to work with you, how you've changed her! Now you're one of our family and we look to you for help in a crisis," she mused, "A twentieth century man has become one of our strongest assets, it is a remarkable achievement."

"Thank you, Miss," He answered.

"What do you recommend I do with Lieutenant Caerey?" She asked, changing subjects, "He insisted on returning to the brig when we were freed," she continued.

"He's a good engineer, even if he doesn't know it himself. I suggest a stiff talking to, make sure he feels the risk he put Naomi and her mother in, remind him he has a family that may one day be in the same position. It will live with him longer than a jail sentence," suggested the Colonel.

She nodded, "I'll do it," she announced.

"Now tell me how you survived on that planet and how you think you failed to protect Seven of Nine?" she demanded, emptying the second bottle of Metheglin into his glass.

He went over the whole story, leaving nothing out, including the guilt that he still felt over his feelings and actions.

Finally the Captain spoke up. "Have you considered the possibility that Seven needed you to make love to her? She loves you, she may not totally understand the feelings, but that will not stop them operating on her. It is her final step to achieving humanity, finding somebody she needs to bond with, even give herself to," she counselled.

"It doesn't make it right, Miss, I should of continued to control myself. It was an error on my part. It would have been unacceptable behaviour in my younger days," he avowed.

"There is not a man on this vessel who wouldn't like to be where you are and wouldn't respond in exactly the same way and a lot sooner!" She exclaimed, "Just accept in this area you are as human as we are, I for one am very glad you are!" She continued hotly.

"As you wish Ma'am," he replied stonily.

"Not as I wish, you silly man! As you need and want to!" She almost screamed at him, "She needs you and you need her, accept it!"

"Yes Ma'am," he answered quietly.

The dinner finished he left the Captain, still feeling uncomfortable about the Captains comments. The Captain went to bed hoping those same comments had struck home. 

He was sat by Seven of Nine when the regeneration cycle completed. She smiled at the lonely figure waiting for her, for him it seemed to light the bay. Tenderly they embraced and kissed.

"I have made many mistakes and this is probably the biggest I've ever made," he announced huskily, "I have failed to protect you adequately twice, once from the Tharg and once from me. But if you still want me I'm yours for as long as you want me to be so," he vowed.

"That is acceptable," she replied softly.

"May I take you to breakfast," he smiled, offering his arm.

"That is also acceptable," she affirmed, taking it in hers.

The mess was full, so they joined Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres at their table.

"How did you enjoy your time in the wilds acting like Cavemen?" asked Paris casually, as means to start conversation, he noticed that Seven of Nine was still wearing the supple leather suit that the Colonel had manufactured.

"It was educational," replied Seven levelly.

"What did you learn best?" Asked Torres, her keen senses picking up small signals.

"One person for company is enough if you care for them," she announced bluntly, then continued, "Lieutenant Torres, I wish to thank you for your advice on Kellor," she paused, "It was accurate," she commented.

Torres blushed acutely.

Tom and B'Elanna excused themselves and got up to go to their respective duties.

"What was that about?" a baffled Tom Paris asked.

"I think our Borg has finally become very human and taken the stiffness out of the Colonel while doing it," she announced cheerfully, leaning forward and kissing her beau firmly.

  
  


Revision 58

  
  


   [1]: mailto:story@rgower.f9.co.uk



End file.
